Gravity Falls: Red Moon
by Belgianwritersblock
Summary: With our favorite Pines-twins off to another vacation, Gravity Falls has lost little to none of its paranormal activity, strangeness and insanity. Nothing resident badass Wendy Corduroy couldn't handle. But when an ancient evil rises, the odd town will need all its odd protectors to stand a chance. (Features puzzles.) Feedback appreciated. Cover by FireDragon7000 (deviantart).
1. Between us

_A/N: Enjoy  
_

 _EDIT: 17/1/17 I'd made a mistake in my code. Its fixed now._

 **Gravity Falls: Red Moon**

 **Chapter one: Between us**

* * *

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* * *

"Uuuuh." The voice next to Dipper Pines wailed overdramatically.

He tried to focus on his book and ignore her. It had only been the second time in less than twenty seconds. With some luck, she'd find something else to do.

"I said ' _uuuuh_ ', Dipper." His twin sister nudged him in the arm.

He rolled his eyes and closed his book. "Yes, Mabel. I heard you." He said, turning to his sibling. She had brown hair, just like him. Though hers was much longer. And their faces, though alike, were clearly different. Her cheeks were rounder, where his forehead was bigger, all the more place to house the birthmarks that given him his nickname. Little wonder he always hid it under hair and hat. The frown she had on her face now was not only a stark contrast to her default behavior, but also to the sheshire cat on her blue sweater.

"What is it?"

"I'm bored." She complained.

"Don't you have your gamegirl™ ?"

"The batteries died out like an hour ago, bro!"

"Yeah? Well, too bad." He said, returning his attention to his book.

"Uuuuuh!" She said laying her head sideways on his shoulder. "UUUUUH!"

"Fine." He sighed, shutting the book again. "Fine. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Let's play a roadgame Dipper!"

"Mabel." He said in a hushed tone. "We haven't played roadgames in over a year. Do you really think the best time to start doing that again is when we are surrounded by new kids for a week to come?"

"Oh, come on, don't be a dork."

"I'm trying. That's the point. I don't want to us to be the weird kids out the coming week."

He hoped the message would sink in. There were a few more hours on their bustrip to _Happy Camps_ , their after-christmass activity for the rest of the winter holidays. And that busride filled to the brink with other kids was only the start of it all. He just wanted a normal vacation for once.  
Truth be told. He didn't know how his sister managed to not care about those kinds of things. He admired her free spirit, despite how much it could get on his nerves from time to time. She could get laughed at and get a good laugh from it herself; she rose above it with a cheery attitude. Because Mabel always knew who she was. And she liked who she was. Perhaps that was where that strenght came from.

"Hehe." A brutish voice behind his seat uttered.  
Dipper felt his ear flap hat he'd gotten from Wendy Corduroy during the past summer they'd spent in the strange little town of Gravity Falls lifted from his head.

"Hey!" He said, turning around angrily.  
Next thing he knew, he gulped.

The kid that had taken his hat was a head taller than him and three times as wide. He had a flat nose and a blonde, military style haircut. He leaned over the back of Dipper's seat, towering with a stupid grin on his face. His thick arms and hand dangled the hat in a taunting way. It made him angry beyond words.

"Yeah Dipsauce!" The kid laughed. "Let's play a game. Keep-away!"

Some of the nearby kids giggled and laughed, pointing at the scene happening before them.

Despite far from being a coward, Dipper had always prefered diplomacy or out-thinking his enemies whenever possible, before resorting to violence. Especially when many of his foes in the past had always had the edge on him when it came to physical strength. But he didn't flinch when it mattered. And that hat mattered. His blood boiling, his hand reached quickly, grabbing the kid by the wrist.

He knew he had a savage look on his face. He could feel it. But the other kid had one too. It was obvious this bully wasn't used to his victims standing up for themselves. And that he liked it no less. Dipper was still not going to let go, but he knew he wasn't going to get out unscathed. But so be it. In Gravity Falls, they'd faced bigger problems than this.

Luckily, his sister came to the rescue. He could see, from the side of his vision, that she wore her usual cheery expression; her sharp braces layed bare. She didn't seem impressed by the bully at all. And when she spoke, he could see the doubt and uncertainty grow in the other boy's head. And not only because, as big of a bully as he could be, he would not prove his dominance nor claim more status by beating up a girl. But also by what she said. And the happy-go-lucky way she mentioned it.

"Oh hey there." She said, "I'm Mabel and that's my brother Dipper, whose hat you're holding. Now I don't know just who you think you are. But I'll just call you Ham-hands. I think you want to let go of that hat, Ham-hands. You see, we've seen things that would make you wet your pants? Don't believe me?" She asked.

More and more of the busy bus grew quiet as she extended her hand. Ham-hands was frozen, not understanding just what was going on and unsure how to react. Even as the girl's finger prodded his cheek and she made a farting sound with her tongue out. She then continued to prod his forehead. His chin. His nose. And he just sat there, wide-eyed as the entire bus looked over to them by now.

"See? We've seen too much to be scared of a one-dimensional bully such as yourself." She continued happily.

"You're insane." The bully managed eventually. His eyes darting from her to Dipper. "She's insane." He went on.

She snorted. "Yeah. And there is one thing you should know about this camping trip..." She laughed. And then, in one go, she leaned over the bus-seat and grabbed him by the collar, pressing her face up against his, looking him straight in the eye. She spoke with a low, raspy voice. "None of you seem to understand. I'm not locked in here with you. You're locked in here with me!"

Ham-hands let go of hat. And Dipper took it from him with more than just some satisfaction.

His sister let him go and laughed out loud in the silent bus. "Hah. Movie references." She exclaimed before the both of them sank back into their seats.

Slowly but surely, the noise in the bus returned. And with it, Dipper's adrenaline weared off as his embarresment took its place.

"Okay." He said, adjusting the hat. "What game do you want to do?"

"I thought you didn't want to be the weird kid out." She asked.

"I think that boat has sailed by now."

"Nah. I'm fine."

"Your f…? Oh sure." He said, a tad annoyed. He loved his sister, but her fickleness could be a bit much sometimes.

"Hey Dipper?" She asked.

"Yeah." He said, just as he'd decided to reach for his book again.

"If mom and dad wanted to get rid of us for a week..."

"Come on Mabel, that's not fair. You know they couldn't take time off from work."

"Why couldn't they send us back to Gravity Falls?"

He didn't know what to say. That is to say, the reason was obvious. As their great-uncles, the twins Stanford and Stanley Pines had set about travelling the world in search for paranormal anomalies, they had no family in Gravity Falls they could stay at.

Well, it depended on what you called family. Soos and Wendy Corduroy… Grenda and Candy… Old man Mcgucket… Hell, even Pacifica Northwest and Gideon Gleeful had become more than treasured memories and friends. Could they not be called family? Not in the eyes of their parents, apparently.

"Dipper?" She asked, twiddling her thumbs.

"Yeah?"

"You still often think about what's happening there now?"

His hand reached for one of the ear flaps on his hat. His thumb stroked the inner wool absentmindedly.

"Every day." He said, remembering red hair and a smile that made his legs feel as wobly and noodly as bullies kept reminding him they were.

* * *

Wendy Corduroy pulled the collar of her thick coat up, shielding her from the worst of the snowstorm. She was grateful for the inner wool-lining, yet found herself longing after her old cap. Dipper's hat didn't shelter near as much as her old ear flap hat had. It hadn't been much of a problem over the last few months, but now that the heart of winter had struck the remote town of Gravity Falls, she was starting to notice. And, while she'd never admit as much, perhaps she had to recognize that she'd been to laid back in looking for a replacement.

As she plowed through the six and a half inches of snow, not seeing a single fellow Gravity Faller in sight, she felt the slight headache coming up. She didn't want to get sick. Not now. She couldn't afford it. It was december 26th, and seriously who got sick in the holiday season? There were enough schooldays for that.

In any case, she was not looking forward to watching the new movie at The Royal. "Going away again from the past and present.', the 1985 classic was playing in the small theater. She'd heard Dipper and Soos gosh over it like nerds during the summer, but she'd never seen it herself. It seemed apt, now that she had the chance. But watching a big screen with a headache coming up was not on her priority list right now. She wished she hadn't convinced Tambry to watch it with her tonight. Her best friend didn't especially want to go in the first place. Nor would she be apt company. She'd probably spend more time watching the screen on her phone than the big one in any case.

But on the other hand, she needed this, she reflected. She'd been cooped up for too long. And Christmas at the Corduroy's hadn't proven much relaxing. And she needed that unwinding. Not only school had been stress. And not only one of her brothers having a terrible bout of puberty was denying her any down time at home. But then there were the animal casualties at Fendersons farm… Mysterious they were; they had her investigating; searching through old tomes in the town library. It was hard to believe just how easily the people of Gravity Falls had turned back to ignoring the supernatural. It was almost like the Blind Eye society was back in business. If Fenderson was content with his farm animals turning up drained and dead, perhaps that was his business. But with the Mystery Shack crew scattered, she felt like it was her job to at least look into it. The most frustrating thing of all was that she hadn't been able to inform Dipper and Mabel about her progress. Their advice and memories from the journals had proven most valuable over the last few months in previous cases such as the attack of the Minticore. An unholy chimera; one part mythological beast, one part Freshmaker. Who else but the wonder twins could have figured to defeat it with diet pitt cola? Alas, with the snowstorm hitting, internet was out in this one-horse town. If you sent a mail, you were lucky if it arrived three days later. Let alone skype… She was on her own on this one. Well, she had Soos. But you know...

Turning the corner, again, she found the street empty, abandonded and dark. Some of the streetlamps were flickering. The snowstorm raging around her sure was doing a number on the town; blanketing the normally colorful town in white and gray. For once, 'Gray Street' was appropriately named. Gray street had become Gray street only because of Gravity Falls' finest of traditions of going with the flow. Gray was as good a word as Gravy, the peoply of the town had recogned. So after Robbie, ten years ago, had blotted out the V, rather then get mad, the people had decided to adapt. Nobody had been more upset than Robbie himself.  
She passed a spray-painted anarchy symbol as she readjusted Dipper's, that is to say, her hat. The red A barely got any of her attention. Some kid had been thinking himself a rebel as of late. The logo was all over town.

She was all for yelling 'down with the system' and being a rebel just for the sake of being a rebel and young. But it was kind of a shame to see it on Gray street. It had only just been revamped. They'd even managed to lure in a Mcdonald's on it. In the distance, its shiny yellow M tried to lure her in, but she refused. Not because it was killing small businesses, like Greasy's diner. But because she really didn't have the time. If she didn't hurry, she'd be late and judging by the vibrating in her pocket, Tambry was already there and messaging her like crazy.

Carefull not to slip on the ice underneath the snow, she began a faster jog. She went through the alleyways and cut a few corners. The phone vibrated again. But she was almost there. And anyways, she didn't feel like taking off her gloves in this cold.

She passed the giant P signalling the parking space a bit further down the street of The Royal. There were hardly any cars there. During the day people who came in for work or shopping tended to place their car there. But the little cinema was the only late-night attraction in this part of town. And with such slippery roads, it seemed many had decided to stay at home tonight, opting to recover from yesterday's celebration.

And Christmas had been exhausting. Though it hadn't been a waste. With Weirdmaggedon come and gone, her dad had finally relucted to celebrate the holiday propper. Rather than preparing for the end of the world. He'd even goten her a present she'd had her hopes for; a new smartphone. Sure, it hadn't been the one she'd had her eye on, but they'd tried. And you couldn't expect too much from old folk. Especially her dad. He didn't know a smartphone wasn't automatically an Iphone, even if you gave it in a protective casing with a giant I on it. But still, it had been welcome. And it was currently going like mad inside her coat.

Strange thing too. Because underneath The Royal's neon lights, she couldn't see Tambry. The R on the sign flickered on and off ominously when she arrived. The guy in the booth, a pimple-covered teen from another class at her school seemed surprised to see her. He smiled kindly, sitting behind the glass.

"Oh hey Wendy." The scrawny boy said, waving his hand. His voice lisping due to the obvious braces, recently installed.

Unlike Mabel, he hadn't yet learned to talk properly without them.

"Heeey." She waved back, a tad embarrased for not remembering his name.

She tried to glance the nametag on his shirt, but it was no help. It read E. Smithson. What was that kids name again? Erik? Ethan? Elvis? What help was just thet letter E?

"Hey..." She repeated again, snapping out of it as she realized she hadn't talked in too long. "You." She finished. Luckily, the boy didn't seem to notice. If anything, he seemed glad to have somebody to talk to. "I didn't know you got a job here?" She added, feeling a tad relieved he wasn't causing a fuzz. "The pay any good?" She added.

"About half a buck less an hour than the pool." He said, trying to work away the spit in his mouth. He started blushing and uttered a short, shy, one-syllable laugh. "I remember you working there." He said, looking down.

Well, this was as creepy as Gravity Falls got. But for a whole other reason.

"Yeah..." She replied. "You seen Tambry?" She asked. "She gone in yet?"

She felt her new phone vibrate again.

"You're the first one I've seen all night." The kid replied, a tad confused. "It's a slow night. I hope I'm getting paid at the end of this."

"Oh."

"But you know, if you want, I could watch the movie with you? Doesn't seem like anyone else is coming anyway?"

"Uh… Thanks." She replied, backing up. "But I gotta go. Gotta go… go… check up on Tambry. Yeah. That's it."

"Some other time then?" He called after her as she moved on.

"With this kind of weather, hell might just freeze over!" She yelled back in what she hoped wasn't a too cruel voice.

Using her teeth she undid her gloves and reached for her phone.

She couldn't believe Tambry. Sure, she hadn't wanted to go herself after all, but she'd still showed, hadn't she? And Tambry had been calling and texting to call it off, but far too late. She'd already been on the road, when her phone had started going off. And thus she'd had to suffer through that awkwardness with Eli or Evan or Ernie or whatever his name was.

However, as her phone revealed the three missed calls and the 17 missed messages, she stopped dead in her tracks. An immeadiate sense of dread and adrenaline overcame her. It wasn't like Corduroy's to freeze in the sight of danger. Even in weather as freezing as this was. But this was more than enough to warrant a second to recollect herself.

The first two messages had been innocent enough. Just her sending a text letting her know she was getting ready and that she'd left the house. But another had been sent a few moments later, claiming that she felt like she was being followed. And another. And then one that she was certain she was being followed and was heading back home. Then a phonecall.

And she'd just let it go to voicemail, because she didn't want to get her hands cold.

She tried to call her now. But every time the phone rang without being answered, it was like being told: too little, too late. Eventually it went to voicemail. Just about the last thing she wanted to hear right now. So she returned to the messages.

Wendy skimmed ahead. She didn't want to, but she had to. Dreading to read it all, she read more.

Tambry had tried to head back. But she'd been cut off at every turn, forced to either walk into the stranger or take a detour. It hadn't made sense how the strange figure had always managed to cut her off.

She was scared by then. Completely terrified. The messages became shorter. And more accusing, demanding Wendy to pick up and help her. Tambry'd tried calling her parents, but they were out to dinner and didn't have their phone on, it seemed. She'd tried calling for people on the street and hand rung the doorbells of random houses as she ran from the stalking figure. But none had answered her plea. Another call. Another voicemail…

She'd run into the woods by then. More figures had appeared, leaving her no streets to go into. Into the woods. Oh God. Was she still out there? Alone, hunted by whoever these creeps were? Short one-word messages were all that followed. Help. Help. Please. Lost. HELP!

And one last voicemail.

Wendy had a hard time breathing, for just one second. Next, a fury and determination filled her heart. She ran as hard as she could, ice be damned. Her gloves fell to the ground, but she didn't care.

She hurried her way through town over to where she was sure Tambry would've passed on her way to the theatre. And indeed, she found the tracks of one person still in the snow.  
The snowfall was doing its best to cover up the lead, but she'd been fast enough. For this at least. Following it was not a hard thing to do. She didn't want to stop to think about what that meant for Tambry's pursuers.

They'd hunted her across town alright. But she only slowed down once, hoping to find where they'd entered the forest as soon as possible. It was when she passed a house with a bunch of chopped logs in it's front lawn, and an axe still fresh in a stump. Whoever the careless owner of such fine steel had been, she could kiss him. She dislodged the axe with ease and continued again on her way; doubling her efforts.

When she finally came to the woods, she still couldn't see any other prints in the snow but Tambry's. She didn't like that. Not one bit. But at least it would allow her to follow the tracks, knowing for sure they belonged to her friend.

Away from the town's meager lights, she grabbed her smartphone and switched on it's flashlight. There were no new messages. She couldn't afford to stop and think about what that might mean.

The light of her phone helped her see as her pass inevitably slowed down. There were rocks and roots to trip her over. The tracks in the snow were harder to recognize in the encreasing darkness and the branches of trees kept smacking her in the face. But she pressed on.

"Come on." She dogged herself on. "Come on." _Hold on Tambry._

She had no idea where the track had lead her, but after what seemed like an hour of traversing the woods, she came to an abandoned ruin, it looked like a tomb if she'd ever seen one. Desolate and covered in moss, the whole thing was little more than some huge slabs of stone worked into a small hill with an ancient staircase leading down. The arc of the doorway was especially cracked and bent out of shape by centuries or millenia of roots growing around them; pushing them always slightly and gaining ground inch by inch.

Without hesitation, she tore off a part from a front-pocket on her coat, allowing her to slide in the cellphone without having it's flashlight be cut off by the fabric. Her fingers tightened around the handle of the axe. She marched in ready to show them, whoever they were, just what happened when you messed with the friends of a Corduroy.

Holding the axe firmly in both hands, she descended the stone stairs. Her footsteps echoing softly around her and deep into the darkness that lay ahead. When the steps ended and she felt normal ground under the soles of her boots, she heard a low sound drumming on. She couldn' t quite place it. But it's rythm was just about the first thing she noticed.

She tried her best to peer beyond the beam of light shining from her chest as she shuffled closer towards the humming sound. And as she faced the shadows that humming grew to chanting.

"What the..." She told herself as she moved from chamber to chamber.

Her flashlight revealed an ancient structure, all in ruin, around her. The entire place didn't exactly look safe, more like on the brink of collapse. And every step she took, the feeling inside her that this tomb would become… well… her tomb, grew. The worst part, apart from the ominous chanting growing louder and louder, was that with every step she took, the shadows danced beyond her flashlight. Stones and roots sticking through the roof; all cast menacing shades in the bright, white light. And all were turned worse by her own imagination.

She walked underneath another archway, hoping she'd be able to find her way back once she'd found Tambry, when in the distance she saw a faint gold light dancing on a wall. The way it danced told her it was illuminated by fire. She grabbed her axe in the right hand and drew her phone out of her makeshift holder with her left and lowered it, to shine just in front of her feet. She needed it so she wouldn't trip or fall into a bottomless pit of sorts, but she couldn't have it give away her position.

She moved closer to the light, and the chanting rose with each step. She couldn't make out the words. They surely weren't english.

When she came to the illuminated wall, she could see clearly the light came from another chamber around the corner. Carefull not to make a sound, she peered in; afraid of what she might find. Afraid that she might be to late.

What she saw horrified her. In the middle of the round chamber, lighted like gold by torches hanging from the wall, was a shiny, bronzen altar. And the figure lying atop it with open eyes, frozen in the moment, was a familiar one. Six figures were praying and chanting on their knees, surrounding the altar. They threw up their arms and brought them down singing their awfull mumbo-jumbo. And they were hideous. Neither male nor female, but naked and with a body so pale and wrinkled and misshapen; their arms and legs too long, their bald heads too oval; their fingers more clawlike than actual hands, their eyes a sickly yellow and their ears pointy. And even from her hiding spot, she could see the sharp fangs on the ones somewhat facing her. Above the altar a metal disk hung, chained up to the cealing. And from it a radiant beauty of a woman hung down. Only the ample upper part of her body departed from the disk. Where the rest of her body went as it dissapeared into the metal disk, she could not tell, but it didn't exit the other way. The woman simply dissapeared from the waist down.  
She wore victorian clothing; gold and red and amplifying her hourglass body. With her long red, wavy hear hanging from the other side of her head, its ends kissing the bronze altar, Wendy could see her flawless face. Her skin was white, but not the sickly tone of that of the thralls around her. No, this was like seeing snow-white come to life. Her red lips and red eyes somehow only amplified her beauty. Though the trickle of blood dripping from her lips did not.

The droplets were claimed by gravity and splashed on the figure lying on the slab of the impressive altar. And it was a figure Wendy knew all too well. Her friend's eyes were open, but Wendy could tell she didn't see. She was in the room, but her mind was somewhere else.

"Tambry." She breathed.

The beautiful woman turned her gaze to her and Wendy could feel those red eyes penetrate her. In one moment utter silence dominated the chamber. The ugly creatures turned to face her. And yet somehow, their horrible mugs were naught compared to the destructive power the strange woman's look held.

Then, all of a sudden, she hissed. And as one, the monsters moved and rushed for her. Wendy moved from her hiding spot herself. Her brain begging her to turn and run for her life. But her heart was filled with righteous fury and she'd never been one to let a friend down. No matter what it took.

Her war-cry rang louder than their mindless drooling and hungering sounds. And when the nearest one leapt for her, she swung the axe with all her might.

In two different places, its body and head turned to dust upon falling to the ground.

A wordless cry from the mysterious woman ensued and the rest of her warriors froze.

"Yeah?" Wendy roared, high on adrenaline. "Come get some!"

Her eyes locked with the woman's. And for a moment, despite feeling the crushing weight of her gaze, she felt like she could take every-one in that room. Even that freak herself.

Viciously, the woman hissed again before sinking deeper into the disk. Rapid and undescribeable movements around her made Wendy take her eyes off the dissapearing figure, however. As suddenly she found herself surrounded by five big, mean looking bats. They flew past her and she tried to strike one of them as they moved for the exit to the chamber, but missed. And by then they'd dissapeared into the darkness and beyond the corner. She could hear their flapping get further and further away.

She turned back to the altar quickly, ony to see the last of the strands of wavy red hear dissapear into the disk.

"Tambry!" She repeated, running over quickly.

Once at the altar, she grabbed the axe with both hands again and peered up into the metal disk; expecting to find the woman. A red-haired face stared back at her, looking very cross indeed. But it was her own. She now saw only it's outer rim had been made of metal. A bronzen metal enscrybed in strange hieroglyphs. But insided of that outer rim was naught but a giant mirror.

Not trusting the mysterious object for one second, she placed her arms underneath her friends legs and back. With some care she heaved her off the altar. Removing her, she found a strange inscription on the altar. It read "viɿƚuƨ ƨɒnǫuiniƨ" at the top of the slab. In the middle she could see: "ɘx viƚɒ moɿƚɘ" And just under that: "ɘx moɿƨ viƚɒ". And more toward the bottom it read: "viɿƚuƨ ƚɘnɘdɿɒɿum". But she ignored it rapidly and lay her friend on the ground instead. Some things were more important than others.  
She quickly checked the girls breathing and found her pulse. Albeit faint. Tambry was looking bleaker than usual and felt cold. She was also bleeding slightly from her neck. Wendy did what she could with a clean handkerchief, but she knew her friend had to get medical attention asap. She tried talking to her. She shook her slightly. She even slapped her once, trying to snap her out of it. But the girl did not wake.

"Okay." Wendy said as much to herself as to her friend. "We have to get you out of here."

She undid her own coat and put it on her friend. She also forced her gloves over the girl's first pair. Not an easy feat when the other person is non-responsive. But she had to keep her warm, which wasn't happening despite the thick clothing she'd already been wearing before.

"You're going to be al right." Wendy whispered.

She bent over to pick up her friend, but rose without her. Despite knowing her friend needed to get back to town sooner rather than later. A terrible anger in her would not let her leave yet, she knew. She stared furiously at the mirror hanging over the altar for a second, realizing what she had to do. She grabbed the axe she'd leaned against the altar with both hands and raised it into a striking position.

"You stay out of my town!" She shouted, swingin the axe.

Shards of mirror nbroke off and scattered. And even more fell down when she managed to wriggle free the blade of the axe from the metal sheet behind the glass.

With the axe in one hand and her phone now pocketed in the front of her pants, she heaved her friend over her shoulder, hanging one of the girl's arms and one of her legs over her shoulders and locking it with her free arm. It was a good thing Tambry had always been worried enough about her appearance to stay thin, for Wendy did not know how much more she could carry like this.

But they were going home, and she would make sure of it.


	2. Iced blood

**The Shadow Wolfe,** I very much appreciate your review. I'm glad you liked the previous chapter. Thank you so much.

* * *

 **Gravity Falls: Red Moon**

 **Chapter 2:** **Iced blood**

* * *

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 _Ipve fvrtvthzav uione vvrf;_

 _tgtdzbrfqex we rmri._

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* * *

Pacifica Northwest walked back from the stables, acros the beautifully lain, tranquil stone path. The brush and snacks for her last remaining pony, Summer Rose, in her white gloved hands. Her parents wouldn't approve. She knew. Despite the hit their family had taken during the Summer; she was still a Northwest. And Northwest's had servants to carry their things around and do any manual labor.  
It was simply unheard of… Unthinkable… That she'd brush her own pony's mane. That she'd feed it carrots and apples and get her hands dirty in the process. That she'd be out here, in the middle of the night, freezing in the snowfall.

And yet, her act of quiet rebellion filled her with tremendous glee. Even if the cold bit through her blue, winter-dress and matching coat. Even if the snow messed up her perfect hair.

Because she was doing something. Something she wanted to do. Not something expected of her. Not something for anyone else but herself. And, Summer Rose, of course.

It helped that her parents were out of town. She'd avoided the trip by acting sick. And the servants in the house wouldn't dare rat out her audacious behavior. They'd get as much of the punishment as she did, if they blabbed. Besides, why would they refuse her. They'd been working all day and all night already; if they could choose between going out through the cold night to feed her pony and having an early night playing cards or drinking hot cocoa on a night like this; their choice was made quickly.

It was strange, having the house's staff cut so dramatically. No more sur-butler. Only the most senior one remained. Only two cooks and one baker. One of their gardeners worked part time. They'd had to settle for a cheaper chauffeur and pilot; one guy rather than two separate, qualified people… And most telling of all they had so few maids that she could tell each and every one of them apart. Not by name, of course, but still.

And yet, she reflected as her boots cracked through the snow, retreading the path she'd walked down earlier, life had a way of just going on. Her parents had seemingly learned naught about living with less. Quite the contrary, even. Her father seemed more bent on work and acquiring wealth and status than ever before. Her mom faired a little better. But it was clear she didn't like living in only the second largest manor of Gravity Falls. Their 'holiday getaway' was just another way of making that crystal clear to Pacifica. A whole christmas season of fancy drinks and rubbing elbows with nobility, representatives of conglomerates, rich industrials… All at their ski-lodge a few towns over. Though it had meant celebrating Christmas without them, she was glad to have dodged that bullet.

When she came to the end of the back-garden to their new mansion, she eyed it in all it's mock Tudor glory. It was big enough. She decided, proud with herself with being able to settle for less. If she would live in a house like this later in life, she could be happy.

Feeling particularly impish, she entered through the servant's door. If only her parents could see her now!

Entering the main hall, the quiet of the place really bloomed. Her parents had taken most of what little staff remained with them to the lodge. That, taken with the fact that the gardeners were on holiday left the mansion quite empty. One cook, three maids and the chauffeur that would bring her parents back in a good week's time. That had been all they'd left her. After all, it seemed more important to impress others than make sure their daughter was left in the best of care, it seemed.  
The main hall was silent and her steps echoed as she crossed the marble, chess-patterned floor, passing the wide pillars on her way to the grand staircase. She pulled off her boots before walking on the red carpet that draped the stairs to the main entrance of the mansion. With a slightly guilty feeling she eyed the track of mud and water she'd brought in with her. But she didn't move to clean it. For one, she had no idea where any of the gear was, let alone how to use it. But secondly, their servants would clean the hall tomorrow regardless of what she did. It always had to be spotless. Ready to impress.

She was almost up the stairs, had already passed the crystal chandelier, when the knocking came.

Pounding, it was, really. And a shouting she did not recognize. For a moment, she was frozen. Scared even, by the terrifying sound. But no sooner did one of the maids enter the hall and rush for the door or she composed herself. She was the lady of the house now. And she would act the part.

"Go see who it is at the door, would you?"

It wasn't so much a question as it was a command. As if the maid needed telling, though. Truth be told: It wasn't as much a command as it was a footing to grant herself.

The maid opened the door an inch or two and peered outside. In good Northwest manner, she needed only one second to classify the unexpected visitors as problems and no good rabble.

"Go away." She declared. "We have no change for you."

"We're not going anywhere." The voice on the other side of the door replied. Pacifica recognized it, but with the howling wind that had started to pick up, it was hard to say just who it belonged to.

"Leave or we'll call the cops." The maid spoke sternly.

Already she began to close the door. But before she could, an ax wedged itself in between it and the frame. Pacifica and the maid both screamed bloody murder at the sight of it. Beside herself, the maid let go of the door and backed up. It was kicked open, revealing a large, horrible, hunched figure looming in the doorway.

It wasn't until the shape walked forward, axe in hand, that she recognized it for what it was. It wasn't some deranged, malformed psychopatic serial killer. It was Wendy Corduroy with her friend hanging over er shoulders. Pacifica finally stopped screaming.

Unceremoniously, yet with great care, Wendy laid her friend on the floor. It was te one with purple hair. And the mopy one for her boyfriend. She noticed as she walked down the staircase.

Just what is going on?" She asked. "Is that blood?" She said, noticing the unconscious girl's neck."

"Listen." Wendy spoke in a collected, yet urging tone. "She's been taken. I got her back. And when I managed to find my way back to town, your house was the closest."

"Is that blood?" She asked again.

"Pacifica listen to me. We need to get Tambry to the hospital. Okay? We need to hurry."

"You can't get blood on the carpet!" She said, aghast. "My mom and dad will kill me."

Wide-eyed, Wendy stared her down. Pacifica became very aware of the ax in the redhead's hand again, as she said: "Girl, don't make me show you blood on the carpet."

It snapped her back to reality. Her parents were a worry for later. This was much more important.

"What happened?" She asked. "Is she okay?"

"Oh well..." Wendy said, sounding aloof and shrugging her shoulders. "No!" She added with much more sass. "Hospital. Now."

There was something infectious about Wendy's pragmatic behavior tonight.

"No." The Northwest heir said automatically. "That's too far away. And our chauffeur's at his home for the night." She looked up into the older teen's eyes and cont inued. "I'll call him and have him pick up the new doctor on the way over."

"New doctor?" Wendy asked as she sank to one knee. Feeling for a pulse of the sprawled teen.

"Yes. I told my parents I was sick to avoid having to go with them for the holidays. They called in a new doctor."

"Is he good?"

"He could tell there was nothing wrong with me. But I bribed him. He'll be here no matter the hour for the right price. And he'll do anything it takes, if he can get payed."

"I like him already."

"You." She ordered her help. "Help Wendy bring her friend to the guest room."

"But madame Northwest." The timid maid tried. "I don't think your father and mother would approve of..."

"My parents aren't here right now. I am. And if you want to stay, you'll do as I say."

The curt nod she got in response sufficed. Finding she didn't have her phone on her, she walked over to the impressive model on an elegant table by the walls. Black and ancient, she picked up the receiver and worked the rotary dial as her maid and friend climbed the stairs, pulling weight for three.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times before he picked it up.

His rough voice, filled to the brim with discontent greeted her. He surely lacked the finesse and class their previous pilot and chauffeur had had.

"Yes." She responded, feeling agitated. "Yes. I know what time it is. That's why I'll pay you triple for this." That got his attention. Truly, there was nothing, not one single problem, that couldn't be solved with money. And it got him down right to the point. "Here's what you're going to do." She ordered. "You're going to get into your car, drive straight over to Dr. Van Hadeschant and pick him up. What? Drag him from his bed for all I care. He'll be paid triple too. We need him here now. There's someone really injured here. Now stop wasting time and get here asap. If she lives through the night, I'll make sure daddy gets you a nice new year's bonus too. Now get over here!"

She slammed the horn, feeling the adrenaline flowing through her body. She turned around. Wendy and her maid were still struggling up the last few steps. She rushed over to help.

* * *

Dipper looked over the fire at the hungry eyes staring back at him. Dozens and dozens of them. All of them following his every move with the utmost focus. Silently. He had them right where he wanted them.

He spoke to them. "And from the silver mirror, the ghost's voice boomed as loud as it was eery. The sounds of his fists pounding on the oak gates all those years ago, echoing through to the present."

"YOU PROMISED, NORTHWEST!" Mabel helped, adding a low and quite close to the original imitation.

It worked. Not only the other kids at the camp but also the supervisors gasped and shrieked back.

"Bang." Dipper said slowly and menacingly, eyeing Mabel from the corner of his eyes. She was enjoying it as much as he was. "Bang. Bang. With the trees gone, the mudslides began. While they partied and laughed, I was swept away by the storm!" He added, trying to mimic the voice as best as he could, himself. "And so I said with final breath:..."

"One-fifty years I'll return from death, and if the gate's still closed to town, wealthy blood will stain the ground!" The much more adept Mabel picked up, seamlessly.

"A curse passed down until this day..." He finished.

He let the words sink in. To build the tension. He could feel it rise.

"And then what?" A voice from the mass asked softly.

"Well..." Mabel smiled darkly.  
"Oooohkay." A tall figure rose from the crowd.

This lead to a widescale fright and a lot of screaming.

"Okay. Okay." The tall man said in a rather effeminate voice. "Now camper's I think we've had enough ghost stories for tonight." He clapped his hands as he spoke.

Dipper recognized him now. Even though it was only their first night there. Ricky was easy to recognize and easy to remember.

"Aaaaaw." The general consensus murmured.

Dipper was pleased to hear even one or two of the other camp guides chime in. He was sad to stop too. And though she smiled encouragingly at him, he knew his sister felt the same. He could read it in her eyes. He felt the same nostalgia every time.  
They'd told their stories so many times after the summer. At first Dipper had been no good at it, and even now, the precocious and expressive Mabel was still far better at it than him. But every time they told the stories, a little bit of him felt less inhibited. And every time, it went a little bit better. And they never wanted to stop telling them.

"I say." Ricky added happily, placing his hands in his hips and leaning over slightly. It was all Dipper could tell from his features at this moment, as the campfire blinded him. "You Pines-twins sure are chock-full of imagination."

"Imagination and traumatizing experiences!" Mabel added happily.

"Yes..." Dipper could imagine the guide's awkward, big smile underneath his pointy nose. He always wore it when he was unsure how to respond. Which tended to be anytime Mabel said anything. "I guess… But you'll have time to tell more stories some other night. Though maybe tomorrow, we can let someone else have a go, hm?"

"Heh. Sure." Dipper laughed.

It was a fair point. The guides had started out with their boring idea of a ghost-story about a previous group of campers staying at the resort that had stayed there ten years ago. _Exactly ten years ago_ , if you could get more cliché. According to the story, the campguides came into contact with a horrible monster living in the campside lake. _The Alkad Spirit_. Enthralled, the guides were forced, every night, to drag their wards from their beds sacrifice them to it. And every morning as more and more of the children disappeared, the fearful, homicidal guides would pretend nothing was wrong; that the kids they'd drowned had never been there to begin with. Or so the legend went.

They'd put in some effort, he had to admit. But their execution of the story had been sloppy. Besides, as it was said, reality always outdid fiction. And they had a lot of reality to draw their horror-stories from. So when Mabel and he volunteered to tell the next story… Nobody stopped them from launching into the third. Nor the fourth. And so on.

"Come on kids. Early day tomorrow!" Ricky exclaimed, clapping his hands again.

Grumbling, the rest of the large group rose to their feet.

"Boys follow camp-leader Jorge. Girls follow camp-leader Rosanna."

As the group began to split apart, to follow the instructions, Dipper and Mabel poked their heads together.

"Well bro, we sure know how to make an entrance." She laughed.

"Yeah." He agreed. The group was clearing out now, forming into two neat groups. "Well…" He continued. "Guess we'll finaly be sleeping in seperate rooms."

"You always did say you wanted your space." She smiled.

"Yeah, well, sleeping cooped up between strange guys was not part of that idea." He laughed. "At least not for me." He joked.

"Hah!" She punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up, doofus."

"Heh." He said, rubbing his shoulder. It had all been in play, but his sister did have quite an arm on her. Plus, he was not exactly a bristling keg of testosterone. "Look..." He continued, a bit more serious now. "I know this is no Gravity Falls. But we'll make it work. We'll have fun this vacation. I promise."

"Sure." She agreed, holding out her fist.

He met it with his own.

"Boosh." They both said.

He turned to join his group. As he did so, he heard Mabel exclaim wonder behind him. He could just see why; as he caught the falling star fade away into nothingness.

"I get to make a wish." He heard her say behind him.

"It's nothing but ice and minerals burning up in the atmosphere." He replied, the nerd inside him taking over.

"Well, you know what I wish for, so maybe you shouldn't be so negative, Pine-tree." She joked.

He smiled and nodded. "Good night, shooting star." He said, following the drone of boys headed for their building.

* * *

Wendy had her reservations about the aged doctor looking over her best friend. It wasn't that she had a problem with the way he looked or dressed. Being of average height, the man must've been formidable in his youth. His once strong built still faded on his current body. She didn't care much for his unshaven face. The unkempt hair only adding to the fierce look on his hard, square chin. And it matched his giant, bushy brows, residing above his dark blue eyes. His hair, though faded, showed he'd once been a redhead, like herself. But that did little to raise in her esteem. His rough face was masked, or contrasted rather, by his brown suit and long, fancy coat. She couldn't tell if it made him look like a poser or a genuine old time gentleman. But looks were looks, and just that. What she really disliked was the smell of liquor on him as he fulfilled his craft. But as he was their best bet as saving Tambry, she guarded her tongue.

He checked the bandage he'd applied to Tambry's neck. Still passed out in the wide, soft, warm, comfy bed, Tambry looked weaker than ever. Wendy could read the lines on his face as he peeked under the bandages, even if he made the effort to hide it. He didn't like what he found.

"What is it?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"I'm not sure." She could tell he was lying, even through that German accent of his.

"Tell us doctor Van Hadeschant." Pacifica ordered from the other side of the four-poster-bed, placing her hands at her sides.

"I'm still examining."

"I think madame Northwest asked you a question." The chauffeur asked.

He stood next to Pacifica. A tall, silent man with long black hair wound up in a ponytail. He was dressed simply, in contrast to his employer. A white shirt, black pants and black suspenders. All in all, he looked half a body-guard and definitely not a man to be trifled with.

It was just the five of them in that room. Pacifica had dismissed the maid that had helped her carry Tambry to the bed.

"She has lost a lot of blood." The doctor replied, still dodging the question. "Does anyone know the girl's blood type? She needs a transfusion."

"A-" Wendy pointed out.

"Hmm." The doctor grunted, producing his doctor's bag. He placed it beside Tambry on the bed. "I'm A+, so that's out of the question."

Wendy wanted to exclaim that he probably also had too much alcohol in his system to be giving anybody anything but a whiskey-transfusion.

"How about you, big man?" He asked the chauffeur, producing a hose and needle from his bag.

The driver just shook his head solemnly.

"I'll pay you for it if that's what it takes. Yeesh." Pacifica exclaimed.

"AB+" The man answered.

"Well I'm B+" Pacifica exclaimed sourly.

"A- right here." Wendy said, raising her hand. "Yo. Hook me up doc."

"Very well." The old doctor agreed. "Please, sit next to your friend and relax. This will hurt a bit."

She placed herself on the soft matress and tried to focus on the room as the man prepared. Wendy had never had any problem facing ghouls or freaks or whatever else Gravity Falls had to throw at her. And she sure as hell wasn't going to back down for some stupid little needle. Even if she dreaded them. But she was determined not to let it show.

The guestroom was grandiose, majestic and luxurious. As any room in a Northwest household was meant to be. The color-scheme seemed to be brown for oak and a dark, royal purple. The latter showing up in the bedding, the linen draping the bed, the curtains and the mats. The chandelier hanging from the middle of the room was made from fine metals and finer cut glass. She was grateful for it's light, for the window leading to the small balcony let nothing but darkness in. The clouds outside covering moon and stars.

If this were to keep up 'till New Year's eve, it'd be typical. A once in a lifetime occurance, blotted out by the clouds.

The doctor's voice brought her back from her silent reflection. As he was preparing the hose and disinfecting the needles, he'd begun singing under his breath. It sounded like a lullaby. But she did not recognize the tune. Nor the words.

"Klein Klein kleutertje, wat doet gij in mijnen hof?" He sang absentmindedly. "Ge plukt er alle bloemekens af en maakt het veel te grof." She couldn't tell if he was just lost in thought, singing because he'd been drinking or trying to soothe her. "Mamaake die zal kijven, Papaake die zal slaan." He continued, grabbing a piece of cotton covered in disinfectant. Rather gently he took her arm and dabbed it on the fold of her elbow. "Klein, klein kleutertje." He whispered, she couldn't help but look up into his eyes, hidden behind his round spectacles. "Wat hebt gij toch gedaan?" He finished. "There." He said. "That was nothing, no?"

She looked down and only now realized the needle was already inside her arm. The red was flowing through the tube. Seemingly blindly, the man taped it to her arm before fiddling with the other half, placing it into the unconscious Tambry's arm. With her free hand she found the girl's and squeezed it gently.

"So. Doc." Wendy said, eyeing her sleeping friend. "What are we dealing with here."

"I have an idea, but you wouldn't believe me." Van Hadeschant sighed, packing most of his stuff back into the bag.

Pacifica shot her a knowing glance and for a moment, she couldn't help but return the favor. "Try us." She said smugly.

The doctor stopped packing and looked at every one of them individually. "You'll think me a drunken fool."

"Dude, you are drunk." She exclaimed. It was out before she knew it. But she wasn't about to apologize. "We might not think you a fool though."

To his credit, the European doctor had the decency to blush faintly. And his laugh was one of quiet embarrassment. Not from a drunken stupor. "Very well." He said. "I think we are dealing with..." He paused. Pacifica, her chauffeur and Wendy herself found themselves leaning in closer. "Ah…" The man continued. "You won't believe me. It lies in the realm of the supernatural."

"You really are new to Gravity Falls, aren't you?" Wendy asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, I mean, at this point we're not expecting some rational explanation. It would be abnormal if it were something normal." Pacifica fell in.

"Chupacabra?" The chauffeur added.

Wendy couldn't tell if he was being serious or trying to be funny.

"Fine." The doc raised his hands in defeat. "Going off your explanation of the events in which you found her and the creature you say you destroyed… I believe this is something I have dealt with before." He took his glasses from his glasses and polished them thoroughly.

The door to the guest bedroom opened suddenly and fiercely. Causing all of them to startle with a jump. Inside the doorway stood the rather small maid Pacifica had dismissed before. "Oh come on! Just tell us already!" The maid shouted in frustration.

"Eavesdropping?" Pacifica asked as she calmed down from the initial shock.

"No… No..." It was clear the maid was regretting acting on her impulse. "I was just… Dusting off the door." She made up on the spot.

Wendy raised a thumbs up and sarcastically nodded encouragingly to the maid, pretending she would be getting away with this. The maid was already backing up from the room. She closed the door bit by bit, slowly. It was clear she was hoping to hear the last part of the conversation.

"Whatever." Pacifica said before the door was fully closed. "Now doctor Van Hadeschant. What is it that attacked Tambry?" The blonde asked, prioritizing.

The doctor put his glasses back on and spoke solemnly. "Nosferatu."

The room grew quiet for a second.

"Pfff. Okay." Wendy broke the silence. "You had us worried there for a moment."

"Excuse me?"

"Vampires, okay, yeah sure." Wendy said, feeling relieved. "If that's all. I was afraid we were dealing with some apocalypse kind of thing here."

Pacifica shuddered. "Hhhh. Don't remind me of weirdmageddon."

The doctor eyed the both of them suspiciously. One after another. "I can't tell if you are not taking me serious or if you are not taking the threat serious."

"Dude, no, it's cool." Wendy said, raising her free arm.

"Please hold still." The doctor urged immediately.

She complied. "We believe you. But we've faced some pretty dangerous things out here. And vampires, well, at least they have a lot of weaknesses, you know? We'll just come down on them with some crosses and force those suckers..."

"Bloodsuckers." Pacifica's chauffeur added.

"Out into the sunlight."

In complete silence, Van Hadeschant walked over to a broad desk located against one of the walls. He pulled the wooden chair from underneath it and sat himself down. It was obvious his intellectual mind was trying to process a lot of information. The tips of his fingers met, just underneath his mouth, as he pondered.

"Have you ever faced a vampire before?" He asked eventually.

"I think Dipper fought one of those giant bats last summer. He vanquished it, didn't he?" Pacifica answered the question with her own.

"Nah. That wasn't a vampire. Turns out they are just big fruit bats." Wendy said. "Can't be worse than zombies though, right?"

The doctor sighed, calling all their attention. He'd removed his glasses once more and was rubbing his tired, wrinkly face. It seemed that, despite his breath, he was sobering up quickly.

"So…" He said, trying to get to the point. "You haven't faced a vampire before?"

"Look man. You don't know what we've faced. From demons to shape-shifters to unicorns. I think we can handle some undead leeches. Besides, you're forgetting; I did face one. I chopped one's head off." Her voice was filled with determination. "If I can do that once, I can do it again. Chop. Chop. Chop." She said, making a chopping gesture with her hand.

"Chop. Chop. Chop." Pacifica fell in. Now they were both doing it.

"Ja. Ja. Ja." Van Hadeschant interrupted, his arms outstretched. One hand clung around the spectacle. "I'm sorry, fräulein Corduroy. But that sounded more like a thrall."

"A thrall?"

"Ja. A thrall. A slave. Every vampire is a master. And every master has his slaves. Every vampire is different in powers and tricks. But everyone consumes and consumes, it's hunger eternal. It quaffs your blood. It consumes your soul. It breaks your very being. And it leaves the shell, makes it it's thrall. I assure you; the true vampire will not be so easily defeated."

"You've… fought vampires before, and won?" Pacifica asked after a while.

There was a sadness in the man's eyes. And his voice cracked. But a faint medium. "At what point does a victory not become worth the losses one suffers?" His gaze turned more stern now. And his voice more urgent. "I don't think you realize this, but your friend is already poisened. Like a virus, the vampire's essence will move through her and consume her. And the more powerful the vampire grows, the weaker she gets until she can no longer resist and parts with her soul willingly. For now, she can still be saved. She is a strong one. And your blood, fräulein Corduroy, is strong too. It will help her. But to save her, we must destroy the vampire's connection over her. And the best way to do that..."

"Is to kick some undead butt." Wendy finished.

The old man nodded. "But vampires are ancients monsters. They are as smart as they are crafty and powerful. There are some rules they must abide. But a vampire is ruthless in it's conquest. It will not toy with you. It will kill. It will take. Brute strength alone can not help us. It possesses the strength of 20 strong men. But knowing the rules, with enough intelligence and creativity, we may yet turn this around for your friend. If not. Her soul will be lost forever."

Wendy gritted her teeth. "How do we go about this?" She asked.

"We have only a few days. At night we guard her. We supply her with fresh blood to keep her strength up. Tomorrow, you show me where you found her. We need to find out just who this red she-vampire is. It will be key to defeating her. We need more helpers than just us four."

"Hmm. We need intelligence. And we need creativity." Pacifica pondered out loud.

Wendy'd been thinking the exact same thing. It didn't feel right to drag the wonder-twins into this. But if Tambry was really in such danger… What choice did they have?

"We can't contact them through the snow." She noted. "Internet is down."

"Yeah." Pacifica said, shooting her a knowing smile. "But I have something better."

* * *

There had been a time the Northwest family had any- and everything to their heart's desire. And while they still were the richest family in town, the fact that those days had come and gone had never been more clear to Pacifica. They'd had to say goodby to their private jet. Down-traded to this junk now in her sights. Remarkably smaller and less luxurious. Though, calling it junk might be too harsh. The floatplane was new and the top of it's class. No Northwest would settle for second-hand. So definitely not her parents. As her limo rolled up in the dark night, she could see it floating on the lake. It's body white but for a few white lines running across it and the black and gold letters "NW". It was a one-propeller plane. And she'd never boarded it before.

"You sure that thing will get us to California?" She called to her driver.

She couldn't see him behind the rolled up mirror-window. But with the equipment in the car, she knew he could hear. She took his silence as a 'yes'. Or at least tried to.

As the car came to a stop, she fastened her coat, waiting for the chauffeur to step out and open her door for her with an umbrella in hand. That much was necessary, with the snowfall and all. He'd charged double to fly in this weather. And she'd accepted.

As he took his sweet time, she cursed herself for being here. It should've sufficed to send him alone. But he didn't know the Pines twins. How could he be expected to convince them and their parents to let them rush over to Gravity Falls? No. Someone they knew had to be there. And Wendy didn't want to leave her friends' side. At this time of night, what other option did that leave? The oaf running the Mystery Shack could perhaps be convinced to go. But he'd be asleep by now.

The silent man stepped out of the car and walked over, bringing the umbrella. She followed him into the cold shortly thereafter.

"Thank you Claude." She had the decency to say.

He simply nodded before the two of them were off to the plane, with him sheltering her from the thick flocks of snow whirling down all around her. He produced a small black device with some buttons and pressed one of them. The door at the side of the airplane opened and a staircase unfolded all the way to the pier by which it was harbored. She climbed them in quiet dignity, only to come face to face with a most unpleasant and unexpected sight.

Inside the craft was a young boy, round and white of hair. His lightish blue suit and his nose made him look all the more like a piglet from the last act of Animal Farm. He sat loftily in one of the cushy back seats of the not-quite cramped airplane. From the look on his face it was clear to Pacifica that he'd been expecting her.

"Why hello madame Northwest, fancy meeting you here." The boy spoke in his southern accent.

"Gideon." She replied coldly.

She moved forward, despite her shock. She would not be denied access to her own airplane. Whatever the kid's intention was for being here, she tried to take control of the situation. He watched her with keen interest as she seated herself across him. Without any orders to do anything else, her chauffeur moved past them and sat himself down in the pilot's seat and began, what she suspected to be, a systems check.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"Can't a guy catch up with an old friend? We're friends right?" He said in his usual tone, somewhere between cute and creepy.

She waved her hand in an unsure fashion. "Eh." She said doubtingly.

"Pacifica Northwest, I say you are just the cruelest." He launched, not at all taken aback. "After all you and I've been through? We shouldn't even have secrets from one another!"

"I'm starting to think I don't." She replied. "I assume you know why I'm here."

The little creep brought his finger to his lower lip mischievously. "Mhm."

"Question remains then, how you knew about this."

"Oh, Pacifica dearest, I have my ways. But a gentleman never tells."

He was enjoying this. Toying with her. She'd had enough of that. Crossing her arms, she tried to focus on the mystery at hand. And the answer came, suddenly and quite to her surprise.

"It's the pilot, isn't it?" She asked calmly.

The shock on his face was priceless. And that was coming from a Northwest. Everything had a price to them.

"What? How..." The boy started, blurting.

"It's obvious he'd be your double agent. You're a sly serpent with some cash. And Claude is a moneygrabbing opportunist. And while I respect that, I'm most disappointed in you." This last part she directed at the back of the pilot.

Claude simply shrugged without looking back. "Heh. As long as I'm still getting paid."

She returned her attention to the boy in front of her. "So, why?" She asked.

"Why am I here?" He'd returned back to his innocent voice. It remained hard to tell if it was mockery of sincere. "I just want to be there when we pick up Mabel is all." He said. "You think I'd pass up an opportunity to spend a few hours in a small room with my beloved queen?"

"Coming from a desperate creep like you, that sounds desperate enough to be your real intention. I could almost be inclined to believe it." She replied.

The boy just waltzed on. "Sure, though, there is enough room in this gravity-defying contraption of yours for you Dipper, the most beautiful girl in the world and little old me. But I could go alone without you, if you'd let me. I don't think you are really into all that grunt work, now are you? I'm more than up for the task."

"Or I could go without you." She replied. "And I was asking 'why' as in 'why do you have need for someone to keep an eye on me'?"

Gideon stared at her blankly for two seconds. Then he started laughing. "Oh, don't flatter yourself sweetheart." He said in between chuckles. "I keep an eye on everybody."

"That..." She hesitated. "That really doesn't build your case. Nor does it make me want to take you along for the flight."

"Hoo-wee." The boy said, wiping away a tear and finishing his bout of laughter. "Now I must defend my honor and let you know this is not because I've got some..." He seemed to take some time in picking the right term. And as he did, he waved his hands carelessly, almost seeming too aloof. "' _ulterior motive_ ' or something." He brought his hands to his chest now and tried his sincerest voice. "I've changed Pacifica. You know about that yourself, I reckon? You know how hard it can be to let certain, let we say, old habits die off?"

Deep down, she did have to admit that. Often she found herself wondering just how much she'd really changed since summer's end. Some days it seemed less than others.

"I'm still not inclined to take you with us." She said, trying to sound final.

"Now I understand we're off like a herd of turtles here. But I don't believe you have much choice in the matter."

"What do you mean?"

"Where you reckon the Pines are, huh?"

"Uh, Piedmont, California? Duh-doi?"

"Well, they are in California. I can tell you that much. But it would seem their parents sent them off to someplace else just today. With the just awful weather we've been having as of late, I don't think you nor the Corduroy girl would've gotten that last minute change of plan?"

She didn't know what to respond. Al she could do was gnash her teeth.

"But you see, being, how did you put it… _a desperate creep_ , does have it's advantages." He laughed in jolly fashion.

"Claude!" She turned. "I'll match what he's paying you and then some to fly us to the right location without him."

The pilot was just putting on headgear. "First I've heard of their change of local." He spoke absentmindedly.

"Pacifica, you wound me." He mocked, calling her back to attention. "You think me a fool? A wise farmer does not put all his eggs in one basket. Claude here learns nothing more than I need him to, and learns nothing I don't want him to. Now, let's get to the point. You could fly to California. And as soon as you're away from this godawful blizzard, you'll be able to contact them. In the morning. Or we could fly right on over to them right now and not lose eight hours."

"We're about ready to go." The pilot added, flicking a few last switches on the panel before him. The board lit up.

"So, we got a deal?" The young boy held out his hand.

"Three things." She said, upholding as many fingers. "One, I'm not shaking that; I don't know where it's been. Two, stop talking like Bill Cipher, you're a spazz enough as you are. And three; fine, but I'm not talking to you during the flight."

"While I'd greatly appreciate your lovely company, madame Northwest, that's a condition I assure you I can live with. On my part, if you'd be so kind as to not tell Mabel I had to use such aggressive concinving techniques..."

"Blackmail."

"Convincing techniques." The boy repeated with a pressing smile. "To get on the plane. I would appreciate it. I want her to think of me as her knight in shining armor, ready to take her back to her dreamland."

"Fine. Let's just go already. Claude, get me something to read on this flight.

"Uhm." The pilot said, looking behind him. "Didn't really have the time to pack anything."

"Ugh..." She rolled her eyes.

"Good help's hard to find these days, huh?" Gideon laughed in a friendly manner.

"Is that why we have to share?" She shot back. And to Claude "Well what have you got?"

He tossed her two small booklets which she caught.

"You could spend your time learning morse code." He offered. "Or learn how to fly a plane."

She eyed the two books on her lap. One was an instruction manual to the airplane. The other read: _Morse code: Like texting but without training wheels_. On it's cover a way too happy man with a goatee was typing with one finger on a strange device.

"Morse code?" She wondered out loud.

"Yeah, you know." Claude explained "Long long." At her dumbfounded reaction he tilted his head sideways. "Short short?"

"Short long short?" She asked, unsure what to make of all this.

"Yeah. Short long short." Gideon fell in gleefully.

With a reddening embarrassment growing on her face, it was becoming ever so clear Pacifica was the only person on board who didn't know what Morse code was.

"You don't know what Morse code is, darling?" The little creep asked.

"Sure I do." She lied. "It's like: _long long long_?" She added unsure; hoping to sound knowledgeable.

"Sure thing." He laughed, seeing through her facade. "Or short long short. But seriously; you don't have to learn a whole new language. We could just have a nice old little get-together back here.

She tossed him the flight-manual. He caught it straight in the face.

"Ow." He complained.

She opened the Morse code book. "Start flying, Claude." She ordered.

He obliged.


	3. Leaving for home

**Anonymous. MISTER Anonymous,** I'd like to thank you for your kind and funny review. (Give him a round of applause people.) As to who do I ship. I thought it was funny you'd ask, with the third chapter touching on that. Though I feel like I can tell you without spoiling it. ... BillDip... No seriously, No. Never BillDip. Wendy or Pacifica? Hard to say, really. I think the age-difference made it right in not getting Wendip, though they remain like best friends and junk. And I liked Dipper and Pacifica's interaction in that episode a lot too. But then again, I'm sucker for enrequited love... Basically, I could see either and be happy with either, as long as they are handled and written well.

* * *

 **Gravity Falls: Red Moon**

 **Chapter 3: Leaving for Home**

* * *

 _Uss Oollr Gsjcwh rs l mcxor hsho'd rfhbxg. Kkjnv wv nzfs fspsdb? Zzi rhdtrs!_

* * *

Cheery as a chipper and both skipping and chanting to show it, Mabel pranced from the shared bathroom to her bunk bed. It was one amongst many. After all, there were fifteen other girls in her age-group sharing this bedroom. But she'd already made it her own with her Sev'ral Timez themed sheets and a varied collection of stickers. Sporting smileys, hearts, fairies, triangles, puppies and much, much more. So many of them that her bottom bunk didn't even seem to be made of ply wood.

"Settling in alright?" the girl occupying the neighboring bottom bunk bed asked. A friendly red-haired girl with freckles named Barbara. Mabel had known her for only a few hours. Yet Barb had already taken such a liking to her that she'd promised to add Mabel to Facepage and through it introduce the Pines-girl to her brother. From what Mabel had gathered he was one year older, single and quite dreamy.

"Man, that councilor we got sure takes herself seriously. _Make your bed_." She impersonated the councilors low voice. " _Be calm. Don't run around. Brush your teeth._ I feel like I'm in some boot-camp or something." Barbara complained as she sat down on her bed.

Mabel fluffed her pillow and straightened her sheets. In a serious tone of voice, she started: "This is my bed. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My bed is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life."

Barb giggled and then added, equally serious and saluting like some soldier greeting an officer: "Without me, my bed is useless. Without my bed, I am useless. I must make my bed true."

Melody, a smaller and black-haired, giddy girl with a pointy nose peeked over from the top bunk. "I must fall asleep faster than my enemy who is trying to tire me out. I must snore at him before he snores at me."

The three kept a straight face for a few more seconds, before bursting out laughing.

"Wow." Melody said, looking about the room from up high. "This place really is like some dreadful barracks."

Looking around her, finding the bland room with it's bland colors and boring, stone, cold floor, Mabel couldn't help but agreeing. But she wasn't the kind of girl to let something like that get her down.

"Two minutes 'till light-out!" The camp councilor called from the hall.

"Yes, sir Drill-sergeant, sir!" She called out, leading to further giggling.

Al around them the girls were crawling underneath their sheets and into their sleeping bags. Even the tall, thin blonde with thick glasses and wearing a green nightie who slept in the bunk above Barb was climbing up. Quite a feet as she kept her eyes glued to her smart-phone; making climbing with one hand even more difficult.

"Watch where you're going." Barb offered, not unfriendly.

Somehow, the tall girl managed to get up to her bed. Without replying she managed to rummage her way into her sleeping bag; lying down. She kept a content look on her face, eying the phone.

Mabel laughed at the queer sight. "You're going to walk off a cliff someday, Sandra." She mocked kindly.

"He's just so dreamy." The tall girl finally responded.

"Who?" Mabel asked.

"My future husband." The girl sighed heavily.

Melody snorted from up above. "Nico Costy-Walnut." She laughed, explaining the girl's crush.

"Who?" Mabel repeated herself

"You know, the actor?" Barb offered, crawling into her own bed.

"He's not an actor, he's an angel." Sandra said, hugging the phone to her chest. Her voice trailed off as she rambled on. "And we'll have perfect babies. Two boys and a girl and they'll be smart and beautiful and he'll get me flowers every day and..."

Mabel shrugged, showing she did not understand.

"He's in Shame of Thrones." Melody added, disappearing behind the ledge of her bed. Mabel could hear her go on as she crept beneath her Sev'ral timez sheets. "He plays James Bannister. You know?"

"He is quite dreamy." Barb agreed.

"Oh, no." Mabel said innocently. "We don't watch that show."

"What?!" The three girls screamed in unison.

"Why not?" Sandra exclaimed with righteous indignation.

"It's great!" Barb chimed in.

"At least tell me you gave it a chance!" Melody finished.

"Uh, yeah." Mabel said. "Dipper and I watched the first episode. Or most of it. At least."

The room grew dark quite suddenly. There were some small excited shrieks about the room of dazed young girls. Barb being one of them.

"Lights out!" The councilor called in a burly voice. "Hush now and good night campers." She added, closing the door to a crack.

Outside the stars and moon shone through the greasy windows. And the light of the hallway shone through the crack. No doubt the beefy councilor-lady was still waiting in the hall, making sure they went to sleep properly. All the girls knew. But that didn't stop the whispers from emerging. Mabel and her new friends chimed in, continuing their conversation.

"How could you not even watch a whole episode?" Barb asked. "You didn't like it?"

"I liked it fine." Mabel explained. "And so did Dipper. But when that young prince of the castle in the North..."

"Brent." Sandra objected. "And he's not a prince, he's..."

"Yeah, him." Mabel agreed. "He started climbing the tower. Dipper and I were really enjoying the episode. And then he came and found the queen and her brother..."

"Ah..." Melody sighed. "The Bannister twins. They are my OTP."

"Gross..." Mabel irked. "You obviously don't have a twin yourself. Dipper and I screamed for ten minutes straight before our parents could calm us down. I needed a long trip to sweater town to get through that one. And Dipper was vomiting violently for the rest of the night."

"Yeah, I guess I understand that one." Barb whispered sympathetically. "Besides James shouldn't be with his sister. I ship..."

"Quiet down in there!" The councilor swung opened the door, letting her loud voice roar.

All the whispers were silenced instantaneously. From her bed Mabel could see the broad woman's silhouette. "Be quiet or the Alkad Spirit will come to take you away." She threatened. Before long the door closed again. Once more only to a crack.

"Heh." Barbs whispered, in her softest voice. "The Alkad Spirit… Your stories were much better, Mabel."

"Yeah." The other two agreed.

"Could you tell us some more tomorrow?"

"Sure thing." She whispered, extra softly. "Goodnight..." Almost she'd finished that sentence with 'bro-bro'. But she stopped herself just in time. "Girls." She finished instead. It wasn't quite the same.

"Good night." Her new friends wished.

She yawned. And after that: sleep came soon. Despite her exuberant default setting, or perhaps precisely because of it, she was exhausted. And with sleep came dreams. Wild dreams of bright colors and shapeless, jolly creatures. Of talking flowers and clothed animals.

Yet dreams have a nasty way of turning dark when we don't keep an eye on them. And with both closed, it proves a hard thing to do. Smiles turned to frowns. Playing turned to searching. For what, she did not know. And playful skipping soon made way for terrified fleeing. Dark and looming, the figure was hunting for her, crawling to dark empty corridors. All teeth and slime. It was the Alkad Spirit, she knew. And it was out to get her. To drag her underneath the water and turn her into oblivion.

She was calling out for Dipper by then. Afraid the monster had already gotten to him. Afraid that she'd never see him again. Any time they'd fought and conquered something, they'd done it together. She couldn't do this without him. But where was he?

Closer and closer it came. She could smell it's undead breath stalking her. A presence of it's own it was. Thick and rotten, like seaweed left on the shores after flood had come and gone.

Drops of sweat were forming on her forehead. She needed to escape. She had to run. Somewhere. Anywhere.

When the touch to her shoulder came, gently tugging, she screamed out. But her voice was soon blocked. Something warm and soft was covering her mouth. In one moment, she wasn't running anymore. No matter how much her hands and legs flailed. Disoriented she didn't even realize she was sitting upright, instead of standing. All she knew was that the voice in the dark looming over her was the Alkad Spirit. And it had her.

In instinct, she bit down on the soft, warm thing covering her mouth. Desperate to escape the spirit's grasp.

A shriek followed. But it wasn't the loud, low rumbling from her nightmare before. This was high-pitched. And familiar, somehow. The voice that followed was enough to make her pause.

"Oh lord." The hushed, southern voice came from the dark. "You got a stronger bite on you than a pit-bull."

"Wait..." She whispered. Her eyes were getting used to the dark. More and more the small shape on her bed came into focus. "You're ..."

"My queen." The stout kid in his baby-blue suit said.

She caught him throwing her a wink.

This wasn't the Alkad Spirit.

Her scream would have been louder this time if he'd not managed to block it off with his hand once more.

"Sssssh." He urged frantically. "It's me Gideon."

Her hand reached out behind her and grabbed the nearest weapon at hand. With true determination, she sent it on a collision course with the white-haired boy. The pillow decked him in the head something fierce.

"Ow." He said quietly, rubbing the inflicted area.

"I know." She said, louder than him. "What are you doing here?"

He urged her silence once more. "Please do be quiet." He said. "Getting you out of here will be mighty more difficult iffen you go ahead and wake everyone up."

That made her pause for a second. "Oh Gideon." She managed in the end with a sigh. She glanced at his oblivious face sideways. "It's not that I'm not flattered. But really now, you can't just stalk me like this."

"Uh… What?"

"Look. I'm a creeper myself. I'll be the first to admit it." She whispered sympathetically. "I've more collection of locks of pretty boys' hair acquired through less than legitimate means than I even know what to do with. But I've turned thirteen now, and realized I needed to put all that stuff behind me. It's not sweet, Gideon. It's just creepy."

"Oh, heavens to Betsy. It's not like that at all."

She was surprised now. "Oh, so you're not secretly spying on me?"

"I… Well…" He stammered. "Look I'm here with a good reason, is what I'm saying."

"Huh?"

"Gravity Falls needs your help. Yours and that brother of yours."

"Dipper?"

"You just hurry up and pack your bag in silence and don't you worry, we've got someone on getting your brother."

* * *

Pacifica closed the door behind her softly. It was late, and the councilors only wandered the hall sporadically by now. The camper's inside had all fallen asleep, despite their efforts not to. And still, the weight of the situation got her heart racing. So much could still go wrong. The councilors could catch her on their patrol. Someone could wake up from a nightmare. Or to go to the bathroom. Or for whatever reason. She was on thin ice. And it was invigorating.

One moment in the darkness of the sleeping dorms, however, was enough to bring about new annoyance. Her nose wrinkled and she frowned. What was all this… sweat? And other stank? There was no way group of girls would cause such fumes after only one day of camping.  
It only took her a few seconds to realize that little backstabbing, conniving, manipulative creep had tricked her. This weren't the girls dorms at all. These were the boys dorms. Her fists shook in futile anger at being tricked. She didn't trust that charlatan going to Mabel one bit. Nor had she wanted to sneak into a boy's dorm-room at all. This had just turned from being rebellious and brave to being a downright creep.  
But what could she do but press on? It would be dangerous, let alone a waste of time, to try and catch up with Gideon now. Really, all she could do was press on, find the Pines-twin and meet Mabel and Gideon back at the lake where Claude had landed the plane.

She grumbled and set to looking.

She was lucky to eventually find him on one of the bottom bunks. It was strange seeing his face again. Sure, occasionally she'd been present at one of the group skype calls. But not often in the months that had passed. Her parents had been drilling her into becoming a proper lady more than ever, as if in a desperate attempt to change back all that that intense summer had drained. From wealth to prestige and to her attitude. She'd had little time to keep up with the Californians. And even less when her parents knew what she was trying  
He seemed different, somewhat. He hadn't gone through a real growthspurt. But he was a little taller than she remembered. His cheeks a little less fleshy and a little more defined. And his shoulders maybe just a tad less unimpressive.  
Yet she recognized him easily all the same. And that was even without his rumored vacation-reading. The flashlight was still in his right hand. A half chewed pencil dangled from his half-open, mouth and sprawled only slightly more disheveled than he himself lay, was a copy of a book on codes and mysteries. That was Dipper alright. He'd even made markings of his own. She could read the pencil-drawn markings on the top of the page as the clear moon outside shone it's light. Upside down it read: "0I0I0000 00I00II0 IIII0II0 00II0II0 0I000II0". What that meant, she had no idea. But she didn't much care either. They needed to get out of here.

Trying not to make a sound, she sat herself down on the edge of the bed.

"Dipper." She whispered.

There was no response.

"Dipper!" She hushed as loudly quiet as she could.

All she got as a snore as a reply.

Loosing her temper she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him to a sitting position. Still he did not wake. All it accomplished was his drooled-on pencil falling from mouth to his lap.

"Hey. Dork." She tried as she shook him awake.

Finally the young teen seemed to respond. Grumbling and still dazed, his eyes opened barely and groggily. "Pacifica?" He tried, still-half asleep. "Am I dreaming again?" He asked, yawning.

An awkward blush crept over her face. And for a second, the loud-mouthed Pacifica Northwest did not know how to respond.

Just for a moment though, as the idiot blabbed on almost immediately.

"You brought Wendy too, right?" He fell right back asleep with a stupid smile on his face.

"Ugh." She uttered, letting him go instantly.

The boy fell backward onto his mattress. The sudden shock finally seemed to do the deed. As he was startled awake, his arms and legs flailing madly and desperately for anything to hold onto. She pinned him down and covered his mouth to keep him from screaming and waking up the entire dormitory.

"Shut up and listen." She commanded in hushed tone, as soon as his eyes focused on her and finally started recognizing.

* * *

Wendy was struggling to keep her eyes open. And to make matters worse, she had the guilty feeling she'd dozed off for a bit. A suspicion confirmed by the new, unfamiliar commercial on the tv. The sound had been dimmed down, as to let Tambry get the rest she needed. But she'd hoped the television set in the corner of Pacifica's guestroom could help her stay awake and vigilant through the night. Gravity Falls public access tv was bad enough to keep anyone up. But in the comfy, soft master chair, she'd drifted off to dreamland none the less. And for how long, she could not tell.  
Yet a quick glance to her left showed that her best friend was still resting in the luxurious bed. And, still breathing, as the covers went up and down seemingly stronger than before. The wave of relief washed over her, even if it did nothing to erode the guilt.

She rubbed her hands in her face, trying to massage it awake. The results of this were mediocre at best. A grunt escaped her as she wiped the gunk from her eyes. She felt foolish for not having taken the old doctor up on his offer. He'd gone to sleep almost as soon as Pacifica and her pilot had left. Then only thing he'd done before was have the help guide him to the kitchens and come back with all the garlic the Northwest family housed. It was surprisingly much, and all lay around Tambry this very instant. He'd told her they'd best take shifts in keeping guard. But she'd stubbornly refused; opting to stay up all night and be there when Tambry finally woke up. And if need be, be immediately ready to protect her. The ax resting on her lap was a testimony to that. But she'd bitten off more than she could chew. The old man had, to his credit, taken the smarter route; judging she'd stay awake during the first shift anyway, he'd gone to sleep first. He'd returned to pop in and take Tambry's pulse before fatigue had overcome the redhead. And he'd said he'd pop in frequently. How many times had he found her sleeping on the job? It was fine when Mr. Pines did that, but this was something important.

It wasn't until she heard a familiar voice that she shook some of the sleep off.

"Heh, thanks for giving me this prime airing time dudes."

The unmistakeable cramped voice of Soos pulled her attention to the screen. She smirked. With his frequent late-night gaming and watching flicks, only Soos could think two o' clock in the morning was a respectable hour to air. Currently he was standing half off-screen, wearing his Mister Mystery suit and fez, looking past the camera. Even the cane was in his one, visible hand. Behind him a green screen was also partly in the shot. The rest revealed a worn down studio.

"Sooo. How's this work? You gonna tell me when we're rolling or?"

"We're rolling." A bored off screen voice shared. "Go on."

"Oh. Cool." He said, turning to the camera.

"I'm like, here to talk to you all about this new attraction we got at the Mystery Shack and junk. Heh, it's pretty sweet. Look at this little guy." On screen something caught Soos' eye "What?" He asked. A second later he was scuffling fully into screen. "Oh right sure thing." There was a purple, potted plant in his other hand. She could see it now. "Look at this little guy." Soos tried again, not losing any of his enthusiasm.

Wendy eyed the plant curiously; having more eyes for that than the cheap jungle local now playing on the green screen behind the current mister Mystery. It looked like a closed flower. But what were those little white things between the petals? They couldn't be…

He held it up and turned it around. She could now see the pink wrinkled blob attached to it. If anything, it looked like a little brain. "I call it the Genius Fly Trap. A sentient flesh eating plant!" He added proudly.

So it were. _Teeth_. She smiled knowingly and straightened herself up. This couldn't be something real, but it had been a creative design. She had to hand it to Soos. She hadn't known he had it in him. And now all he'd have to do was one of Stanley Pines' showman pitches.

"Found deep in the darkest of jungles..." Soos began trying to sound ominous.

It was hard to be afraid of anything the friendly Soos tried to scare you with. But she could tell he'd been practicing.

"It took ten lives bringing it back. And now, in our little shack of horrors, it and it's many brethren are here for your entertainment."

The petals of the flower began to open, revealing the little white, sharp teeth. Wendy found her eyes opening wide too. Where the petals were purple and somewhat beautiful on the outside, they were meaty, rippled and sickeningly red on the inside.

Yet Soos went on. "Be amongst the first to visit our all new Green House of Terror. The newest attraction to the Mystery Shack!" What seemed like saliva began dripping from the corners where the petals parted, like some hungry mouth. "We keep a wide assortment of creepy and weird plants. You've heard of Dog-Strangling Vines and strangle weed? Well, not like we've got 'em." Soos laughed at his own joke. But Wendy couldn't share in his enthusiasm, as the plants' 'head' was moving about vigorously as if searching for something. "Bleeding Tooth Fungus..." The large man went on carelessly, listing the flora in his possession. "Corpse Flowers, Doll's eye, Triffids and many more all kept under a special UV-lighting so you can even visit during winter. You can..."

He stopped talking. Wendy was sympathetic. For a second, she stopped breathing. The plant had managed to topple itself over and it's open petals were now wrapped around Soos' lower arm. The tiny sharp teeth gripping tight.

Soos raised his arm in silence, staring dead-pan at the carnivorous plant dangling from his arm.

"Duuuuuuu…!" He began shouting all of a sudden.

"Turn it off! Turn it off." Someone shouted histerically off screen.

The camera moved and the next thing she knew, there was static on the screen. It didn't last long though. In the next shot, Soos was looking rather bleak and his entire left arm was covered in white bandages. The suit he'd been wearing was ripped off starting from the shoulder. In some places, the red was protruding from the bandages. The Genius Fly Trap was nowhere to be seen

"No sure dudes." The owner of the Mystery Shack waved off some suggestion. "Let's just finish this right? So you'll tell me when we're rolling?"

"Uhm..." The off screen voice hesitated.

Soos turned his full attention to the camera and noticed it was already on. "Seriously, not cool dudes." He spoke rather sternly before continuing as himself. "So come on down to the Mystery Shack and see the wonders for yourself. Bring the whole family; kids and grandparents! Remember, you don't need to outrun the plants, only them."

He winked as the Shack's information flashed on screen and then the commercial ended. So that had been what he'd been up to? She hadn't seen Soos since they'd banded together to defeat the threat of the Mintycore. But he hadn't mentioned anything of the sort. She figured she should go pay him and his girlfriend a visit at the shack when all this was over. It was important not to let friends drift apart. And if anything had taught her tonight, it was not to take friends for granted.

She toned the tv down some more for Tambry's sake. And it was at that time that doctor Van Hadeschant decided to make his entrance once more. The television was the only source of light as he entered. He cast a long shadow coming in.

"Ah, you are awake." He spoke, not unkindly.

"As are you." She replied. The sleep deprivation was getting to he mood.

Van Hadeschant didn't seem to notice. Or at least pretended not to. "How is our patient?" He whispered inquisitively.

"Still asleep." She answered. "Though she'd been whispering some stuff before. It was gibberish, but still… That's good, right?" She asked.

"What did she whisper?"

"I don't know, I couldn't make it out."

"You are certain?"

She was a tad annoyed now, again. "Look it sounded like ' _Tss wv dzawqh_ '. Like I said, gibberish, right? But still. It's a good sign." She said, resigning herself to be the one to conclude it, rather than the doctor. "Has Pacifica been in contact?"

The man shook his head solemnly. "Nein. Though, don't worry, she seems a… _determined_ girl. She'll bring back your friends. I just hope they are as formidable as you claim."

"They are."

He sat himself down on the wooden chair, opposing it to hers. "Then I just hope they get here soon." There was something kind in his fierce face. "With this weather, it could take a good few hours."

"I want to leave at first light for the tomb." Wendy countered. "Smoke this vampire out of it's hole."

"I understand. I'd rather have it settled as soon as possible too. But there is a good chance the answer will not be found in the lair you visited. Besides, we can't leave her unattended. Even in the day."

She weighed his words for a while. He made sense. She didn't feel like leaving Tambry without someone to look over her either. She wondered if there was anyone else they could count on to protect her. Someone who cared enough about her and yet could be relied on not to act brash and take her to the hospital.

Well, there was someone, wasn't there? Not the most reliable of people, she'd have to admit. But his heart, though he often pretended it wasn't, was in the right place. He cared about Tambry as much as anyone could. And he didn't trust any full-on adults, which might convince him to keep her here…  
It was a bit of a gamble. Yet she decided to run with it.

Pulling her new smartphone from her pants, she opened it and began searching for the right number. Internet was down, but she could still text of call him. Chances were he was asleep right now, but she had to try.

"What are you doing?" Van Hadeschant inquired.

"Calling a friend." She replied, as she found Robbie Valentino's number. His angry picture looked at her from the screen, judgingly.

* * *

Dipper was out of breath as the cool outside air greeted him. Somehow Pacifica had managed to lead him outside without running into any of the councilors. He'd have been more impressed with this feat, if he wasn't currently coughing out his lungs. The heavy packed bag on his back was weighing him down and he felt like his knees were about to give out under him.  
He really needed to do something about his physique. He'd never be a Manotaur, but if he wanted to some day follow in his grunkle Ford's footsteps, he'd have to step up his game. Fighting monsters and solving riddles required more than brains, after all.

"Wait… Pacifica..." He heaved, leaning against the outer wall of one of the camp's many buildings.  
Pacifica was not paying attention, however. Rather she peeked around the corner, looking for signs of anyone prowling around.

"I just… thought of something." He managed, inhaling deeply and unhealthily.

"Yeah, what's that?" She asked absentmindedly.

He swallowed and managed to pull himself together, somewhat. "What's going to happen when we're gone?" He asked.

She turned. Her expression one she'd been training one her entire life; looking down one someone with a growing irritation. "Like, what do you mean Dipper?" She asked.

"What's going to happen when we're off to Gravity Falls?"

"Uhm… I told you remember?" She spoke dramatically. "You're going to help vanquish the vampire? Save Tambry? After that, I don't know... You guys can hang out at my place or whatever? I got this new telescope amongst other things, for Christmas. You may like it. It's very nerdish."

Though she was irritated by his question. He could tell she wasn't trying to humiliate him. Nor offend him by saying he'd like something nerdy. After all, he did like many nerdy things. And he knew her attitude was but a remnant of the girl she'd once been. She'd probably always be a bit pushy in life and disdained about everything in general. But that didn't mean she meant ill.

But it wasn't the answer he'd been looking for. Because she didn't understand the question he'd been asking.

"I mean..." He started, explaining himself. "Won't the councilors and campers realize we're gone? Won't our parents be informed? This could turn into a major problem. I don't want my parents to freak out over this. And I can't imagine Mabel not caring about that either."

"Gravity Falls here we come!" His twin-sister's loud voice carried over via the wind.

As one, Pacifica and Dipper moved to look around the corner. In the far distance, they could see Mabel running through the darkness cheerily, energetically and laughing all the while. Her arms outstretched in excitement. A serious gap behind her, Gideon trailed as fast as his little legs allowed, carrying Mabel's bag. He was huffing and puffing more than Dipper had.

"Oh goodness..." They heard him exclaim between short breaths. "Mabel, wait for me!"

"You were saying?" Pacifica's dead-pan voice asked next to him.

"Okay." He grunted, wiping his face with the palm of his hand. "But still..."

Pacifica's hand found itself on his shoulder, surprisingly comfortingly. He turned to her as she spoke. Her words actually rather supportive and understanding. Uncharacteristically so.

"Look, Dipper." She said. "You're right. We didn't think this through. We made a rash decision because we had to. But I promise you we'll figure something out along the way. You can't plan for everything in advance. And we do need you right now. Both you and Mabel. Tambry's life is on the line. Gravity Falls is in danger. You need to be rash right now too."

"Heh." He said, his eyes shifting sideways as he remembered his last reading assignment. "Be rash right now, huh? Well, I guess ' _The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry_ ' anyways."

She smiled. "You are such a nerd." She said as she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along. "Come on." She urged.

He tailed after her, trying not to trip over his own feet as they rushed for the lake. A dash through a small patch of trees would be faster than going around it. And though in her classy winter-dress, Pacifica seemed to have the same idea. She dragged him through the shortcut, following behind Mabel and Gideon who'd both already disappeared into the woods.

Dipper did his best to swat aside all the incoming branches. Yet he caught more than one of them in the face. Perhaps Pacifica, being in the lead, didn't have trouble seeing them coming. Because she sure as hell didn't slow down.

That is, until they entered the clearing. The lake lay right ahead of them, only a few dozen yards. The plane floating on it's shores, as promised. But quite like Gideon and Mabel, they'd frozen solid in their tracks just outside the forest's edge. For talking to the pony-tailed man that had to be the pilot, were all of the camps councilors gathered together.

Dipper swallowed. This dream come true had just turned into a nightmare. For now they were all focused on the man, their backs turned to the kids; unaware. But soon they'd turn and find them. And then they'd be in a whole heap of trouble.

"Look." The pilot said, trying to sound aloof and keep all eyes on him on the same time. "I just need to make some quick repairs and then I'll be on my way. I'm sorry for any distress I caused. You got kids with you, you say? I hope I didn't wake any when landing."

"Gosh." Ricky, the councilor's foreman could be heard. He was hidden from Dipper's sight, at the front of the crowd. "You startled us for certain, quite a bit. That's why we all rushed out to see what all this ruckus was about! But we were up, discussing tomorrow's activities and relaxing with a drink before heading off to bed. But the kids, I don't know? Hey, do we even have someone watching the kids right now?" His voice rose in pitch. "Joel. Michelle, maybe you should..."

There was a movement in the crowd. Dipper's could swear his heart stopped beating. His mouth was clenched shut. Sweat forming underneath the cap Wendy'd given him.

"No wait!" The pilot tried acting fast. "Do you guys have tools I can borrow? I don't know where my wrench is… _hiding_!" He said, dropping the hint without much finesse.

But Dipper wasn't about to argue. He reaffirmed his grip on Pacifica's hand and, without looking away from the crowd, started moving back cautiously. This time, he guided her along.

If only they could disappear into the woods… And if only Mabel and Gideon got the same idea, maybe, just maybe, they'd make it out unseen, before Joel and Michelle would find their beds empty.

A huge wave of relief crashed over him as both Mabel and Gideon, without needing a signal, followed suit. It only lasted for a few seconds though, as he could see the looming disaster before it happened. The branch lay directly in Gideon's path. And he reached it backward in only a few short steps.

The fall itself was loud enough to make all eyes turn to the former charlatan as he lay sprawled on the hard ground. Mabel's heavy bag crushing him; his wails of terror had only been overkill.

"What the?" One of the councilors exclaimed.

"Kids out of their beds?!" Rosanna's burly, instantaneously recognizable voice sounded enraged.

"Oh boy..." Dipper sighed.

As Gideon Gleeful struggled to get back on his stumpy legs and the councilors' disdained wailing continued, Mabel seemed to notice Pacifica for the first time.

"Pacifica? Is that you?" She asked, apparently not caring one bit about the trouble they were in. "I don't believe it!"

"Stop acting like an idiot." The rich girl's response came almost instantaneously.

"Oh. Yeah, now I believe it." His twin declared, with just a hint of sass of her own.

"Pines and Pines!" Ricky's voice pierced through all others.

Dipper could see the man now. In comparison to the rest of the guide-team, he was fairly short. He wasn't wearing his guide's hat, thus showing off his bald head. Yet despite his short stature and overal unimpressive body, his energetic presence dominated, making all other voices fall silent. It was like watching bulldog's cower in front of a loudmouthed chihuahua.

"You better have a real good explanation for this!" He said, raising his finger.

"Uh, sure we do." Mabel responded. "Tell him, Dipper."

"Wait, what?" Dipper's immediate response came. "Why me? I mean… yeah. Uh… A good explanation. Uhm… We were… uhm… Uh..." His voice was cracking something fierce.

"So much for you being the smart twin." A disappointed Mabel said, crossing her arms.

"Doesn't mean I'm a great liar!" Dipper shouted, frustrated because of just how bad things were going. "You should've asked Gideon."

"Alright now just what is going on here?" Ricky demanded, growing more stern and less jolly by the minute.

"No offense Gideon." Dipper added lamely after realizing what he'd said in the heat of the moment.

"Hah." Gideon laughed, finally standing upright again. Mabel's bag dropped to the ground. "None taken." He rummaged into his suit's inner pocket. "'Cuz you hit the nail on the head on that one. Finally I do get to be the hero for once. I do have the solution."

When his hand found it's way outside of his pocket, it carried with it something familiar. Familiar and most problematic. A remnant of the Society of the Blind Eye. The half gun, half light-bulb, half label-maker and half steam-punk piece of machinery shone in his hand. Even if that were a few too many halves.

"Is that..." Mabel started, amazed and shocked.

"A memory gun." Dipper finished for her.

Seeing it brought with it a strange sensation. It did provide the hope that they'd be able to get out of this dire situation just yet. But it also made him feel ill at easy coming across it again. There were a lot of memories to the memory gun.

"Just gotta..." Gideon mumbled to himself as he fumbled with the gun, completely unaware of Dipper's dilemma. "Pines twins..." He said, before biting his lower lip in concentration. "There… Spread fire. All right." He held up the gun proudly. "All set. Claude, iffen you'd be so kind as to remove yourself from our friends for just a moment?"

Dipper could see the pilot raise his hands and scuffle away sideways, quickly. Though the man's face remained stoic and never grew less impressive, the entire move reminded him of a crab scurrying off.

"Just let lil' Gideon take care of this one, Mabel." The boy said, trying to impress Dipper's sister.

Before anyone could say anything, the beam went off, it spread wide enough to hit all of the councilors in one shot. Dipper found he had to look away from the bright flash. And he wasn't the only one. The camp guides didn't even scream. They didn't have the time to. When Dipper managed to see again, they were all just standing there, each with a dumb, unaware expression on their faces.

"Who…" Ricky managed eventually. "Who are you kids? Are you part of our group?"

"No. No." The pilot stepped in suavely. "They are my wards. Remember? After all, you've never seen them before, have you now?"

"Yeah, I… I guess that's right." The confused camp leader agreed.  
There was a murmer of agreement amongst the camp guides.

The four kids exhaled in relief simultaneously.

"Well. My repairs are finished." Claude added. "Thank you lot for your help. But we'd best be on our way. And you guys have some kids to keep an eye on, right?"

"Yeah..." Ricky managed hesitantly. "Yeah. See ya. Well, come on guys… let's… let's go check if everyone is still there."

There was an uncertain murmer of agreement and with that, their group moved on. Dipper watched them go in awe. Before his eye fell on the former villain.

"That was amazing!" Mabel exclaimed, she layed her hands on the small, sharply dressed boy after he pocketed the gun. As she jumped up and down with excitement she added: "I can't believe you just did that."

Dipper caught Pacifica's wary stare, however. And agreed.

"Where'd you get another memory-gun, Gideon?" He asked.

"Uh what?" The white-haired boy said, unhappy to be torn from being praised by Mabel.

"He asked where'd you get that memory gun?" Pacifica added, giving him a stern gaze.

"Oh, uhm, I..." He started.

"Because you see… I though Mabel crushed the last one." Dipper added in a sarcastic tone, placing one of his hands on his hips.

"Hey yeah." Mabel said as she fully stopped jumping up and down. "You're right."

"Well… I..." Gideon tried, turning from one of them to the other, eye to eye. "See…" He took a moment and overcame his momentary flustering. "Look." He added much more suavely. "Last I checked there is no law against fixing something broken, now is there? In fact, I was even recycling, if you see it from the proper angle." He said. "It's not like I'm intending to use it for something… sinister. I mean, come on, it's me, lil' Gideon; regular kid."

Dipper had his doubts. It must've showed on his face.

"Oh come one now guys?" Gideon laughed lightly, seemingly trying to get them to laugh with him. "It's me!" He said, patting his chest. After a second of interpreting what he'd said, he followed it up with: "Reformed me."

Dipper turned to the blonde next of him. "Can we just leave him behind?" He asked, only joking partly.

"I don't see why not." The Northwest girl answered plainly.

"Hey now!" The white-haired kid said, shaking angrily.

"Oh come on." Mabel said in a playful manner; defusing the situation. "Learn to take a joke, would you?"

"A joke?" Gideon asked, not understanding.

"Yeah." Dipper said, deciding to keep the peace for now. "A joke. Besides, you did come through for us. Both of you." He added that last bit to Pacifica. "Thanks. But come on, let's go home." He waved his hand, beckoning them all to follow as he strutted straight for the plane. "But if you pull out that gun mid-flight, I'll give you such a beating you won't ever be able to forget it."

"Heh… Yeah. Good one." Gideon laughed nervously somewhere behind him.

* * *

Wendy put on her thick coat in the hallway just outside of the room where Tambry was resting in silence. Meeting her there was Van Hadeschant. He was carrying his big, doctor's bag and placed it on a small ornate, oak table resting against the wall.

"Your friend is… quite the character." He offered as he too put on his brown, long coat.  
He'd been carrying it under his arm. There was a fur collar on it, and fur edges at the sleeves.

"He's just angry because I didn't call him earlier." She said, remembering Robbie's shouting, both on the phone as well as in person. "Maybe angry with himself that he wasn't there for her."

Truth was, she knew she should have tried contacting him earlier. But the idea hadn't even popped in her mind. And not even because she never liked talking to an ex. Perhaps it was because Robbie was… well… Robbie. And she knew that better than anyone. They'd been friends for a long time, and even after their break up, she still, like, cared about him and junk. But he'd never been the most of reliable guys, prone to anger and quick to put the blame on anyone. With she putting herself through hell already, that hadn't been an attractive addition.

Though to his credit, he'd made it from across town relatively fast. Despite the snow.

"So he's not usually like that?" The doubt was dripping from Van Hadeschant's voice.

"Oh no." She said, straightening out her jacket. "He's always angry. Now he's just angry for something else."

"Ah." The fierce looking gentleman said knowingly.

"You got everything we need?" She asked, picking up the ax that had been leaning against the wall.

Daylight had come already. Even if the Pines twins hadn't. Though it was still extremely early, if they wanted any chance of following last night's trail, they'd have to hurry. Before the snow covered her tracks completely.

"Ja." The old man agreed, proudly padding the doctor's bag.

"What?" She asked, laughing casually. "You gonna vaccinate him to death?"

Without words, Van Hadeschant opened the bag and gestured with his hand. She leaned over and found it's contents not exactly what she'd expected. It was chock-full. Vials of all sorts were in there. But also wooden stakes, silver daggers, crosses and even a large salt-shaker.

She whistled, admitting she was impressed. Though she had to ask. "Salt?"

"It creates a barrier." The man said levelly in his German accent, as one of his hands rummaged through the bag. "Evil may not pass through it."

"I know a guy who can make a better shield with unicorn hair." She offered.

Van Hadeschant gave her a look which told her he didn't know if she was being serious or if he was being mocked.

"It's true." She added, lamely.

As he continued rummaging through the bag, he seemed to let it slide. "We could still wait for your friends. I know you slept, but not as much as I'd have liked."

"I'm fine." She answered. "Let's just get this over with and kick that vampire so hard in the behind her fangs will fall out."

He smiled. "Alright." He agreed. "But first…" He said, drawing a few Cow tales from his bag. "Eat up?"

"Seriously?" She asked. "You think now is the time for candy? I mean, I know usually any time is candy time, but still."

"You've given quite some blood." He explained calmly. "You've already not eaten much of the sandwich that nice maid brought you. And you've already hardly slept. I am not taking you out there if you do not have some sugars in you." He offered them closer now. "Doctor's orders."  
"Fine." She conceded, grabbing the candy.

She unwrapped them and scoffed them down hastily.

* * *

Barbara sat herself down by the breakfast table amidst the rest of her new friends. Right next to Melody and sideways from Sandra. The latter of which was more interested in the pictures of cute boys on her phone than her breakfast.

"Pass me the milk?" She asked.

And Melody did as bid. Barb poured it over her flakes as she looked to the empty seat over her. "Hey, any of you seen Mabel?" She asked. "I figured she was just up early. But I haven't seen her yet." She stood upright, looking over the many, many tables filled with loud young boys and girls, chatting and laughing. Had she chosen to sit somewhere else?

"I don't know." Melody answered. "I though she was with you."

"Who?" Sandra asked, not tearing her eyes from her phone.

"Mabel." Barb said, sitting herself back down and growing a tad annoyed now.

"I thought you were Mabel." The blonde said casually.

"Well you're no help." Barb said between spoonfuls of cereal.

"Oh, I know." Melody offered, raising her arm and waving it about. It didn't take her long to catch the attention of the nearest councilor. He came straight over with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Well howdy campers." Ricky said joyfully. He was always chipper and ready to go. "And how are you girls this morning."

"We're fine." The girls said.

All three of them. Even Sandra had put away her phone, in fear of it being confiscated for the day.

"We were just wondering where Mabel was." Barb said.

"Mabel?" Ricky asked, the confusion showing in his expressive eyebrows.

Barbara didn't like this at all.

"Yes, Mabel." Melody tried. "Mabel Pines? We were wondering where she is? Is she helping in the kitchen or something? Do we need to do shores like that in turns?"

"Well, helping hands are always welcome girls." Ricky said, trying to spread cheer. "But I'm afraid you girls still have some work cut out for you learning all the names of your fellow campers. There's no-one here by the name of Mabel Pines."

"What?" Sandra asked.

Barb was glad the blonde had asked. For her own mouth had dropped open.

"Don't worry. There are so many new friends here. It's impossible to get to know them perfectly all from the first day." The councilor continued happily. "But you'll find your friend, I'm sure of it. And then you'll have the entire vacation to get to hang out and have fun." He winked and brusquely set off, letting the three sit there dumbfounded amongst the mindless chatter of their peers.

When eventually one of them found the faculties to talk, it was Barbara herself.

"You know what this means..." She asked.

But it was Melody who finished it for her.

"The Alkad Spirit." The girl whispered, her voice full of fright.

They remained silent for four seconds more.

Then they screamed their lungs out simultaneously.


	4. Lady in red

A/N:

\- **Anonymous, MISTER Anonymous** , You are far too kind, my good man. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for such lovely words. Pacifica's doctor will get some explanation. Though I hope it will be satisfactory. Thank you again.

\- **a very angry ravage** , Thank you so much for your comment. It is greatly appreciated. I hope you are enjoying the story. Only one way to find out regarding your question.

* * *

 **Gravity Falls: Red Moon**

 **Chapter four: Lady in red**

* * *

 _Eiofvre pus ucoekwee, xmws r aavbgv mr tuqksdie trburs hf zxeoy._

 _Sjaefsu, pqh, sfvcz, fxiv yzh poii, rmxhyw, exubbgzk mbu paxfse._

 _Gf me srqk xa gvc ilk we aapxstruzq azlpw is gsel fvzlsw noti._

 _Nyf o yszkdm mmuh dsjrurs pvlqefv jjmf evfsxh zck zq jafxmfxqb._

* * *

"Is it still far off?!" Van Hadeschant called, a few paces behind her.  
The man had to yell to be heard. Amidst the now white forest, the winds blew something fierce. The falling snow barraged her face. Yet she pressed on through the landscape, only vaguely being able to tell where snow-covered land and treetops stopped and where the white sky began.

"Shouldn't we be, like, silent or something?!" Wendy Corduroy shouted back as she moved forward. At least the wind was working in her favor. It almost claimed Dipper's hat multiple times though.

"Vampires are weak during the day!" The man explained, struggling to put one foot before the other. "They rest!" He added using a tree to push himself forward, clearly out of breath.

Their savior, everybody.

She waited for him to catch up.

"Besides." He continued as he closed the gap. His face was nearly as red as her own hair. "Your vampire could be aware without our loud shouting anyways."

"Want me to carry that, old timer?" She asked in a teasing yet not bullying demeanor, pointing at the bag filled with weaponry against the undead.

"Nein." The man curtly yet politely refused. "It is no bother. Are we still far, though?"

"Not that far." She said shortly before setting out again.

"You try to seem focused." He said, following suit. "Yet you are clearly distracted."

"What are you, a shrink? Dude?"

"No. Almost though. After I became a doctor in medicine, I tried to get a degree in psychiatry. I never completed it though."

"Why not?"

"A story for another time perhaps." He called out. "I'm trying not to waste my energy here. It would be un-gentlemanlike to let a young Fraulein such as yourself carry this heavy bag instead of me. But I will admit, I am growing a tad tired with the exercise. Suffice to say for now, I did not complete it because, as I believe you youngsters say: ' _I've seen some shit_?'"

She snorted at his attempt at sounding in touch with youth. "Don't ever try that again old-timer." She laughed. "It's fine by me that you want to stay mysterious and all. You just sparked the conversation man, that's all."

"I just want you to stay focused." He replied. "That is all. Our lives may depend on it. So what has you distracted?"

"The wind." She replied, showing him what honesty could do. "This storm that is picking up."

"Why?" He shouted back. "If it's summoned by the vampire and this is all it can manage, we should consider ourselves lucky!"

"Yeah it's not a problem for us!" She called back. "We're on the ground."

"Oh. Right." The man replied, understanding what she was getting at.

* * *

"I don't want to die!" The young boy named Gideon shrieked in terrified fashion. "You get me down to the ground safely, you understand? I don't care what it takes. I paid you enough for this man! Me! That's all that matters."

As the small airplane shook and heaved in the blizzard, enough to put fear in the heart of any man, the young charlatan's woeful performance in the face of peril was still enough to awaken the sarcastic side of Mabel.

"What a hero." She noted dryly, buckled in and holding tight to her seat.

It was not that she couldn't understand his reaction. The storm that had caught them by surprise was a particularly feisty one.

"You hush, woman!" The white-haired boy shouted desperately back at her in distress, clinging onto the back of the spare seat in the cockpit himself. "I will not die like this, you hear me?! Claude!" He added, turning to the pilot once more. "Put us down now! What am I paying you for you no good for nothing, double-crossing money-sponge!"

If Claude had been more level-headed than he'd already proven himself to be, one would be able to build skyscrapers on him. But in such a fierce storm as this, with the winds banging on the sides of the, seemingly, riggidy airplane, not even he was sturdy enough to calmly explain that, as a matter of fact, both Gideon and Pacifica, as well as her parents, were paying him to keep his full attention to steering the plane through impossible odds and that, if Gideon so desired, he could have a go at it himself if he thought he could do a better job because, frankly, the prospect of purposefully crashing the plane, sort of speak, was looking more and more welcome as long as it meant taking that little, screaming, tacky-suit wearing troll down with them.

So instead, the pilot's reply was: "Shut your yap and let me focus, brat!"

"Whoah!" Mabel heard her brother shout as the plane dropped a few feet in what felt like an air-pocket. Seated in the seat across her, he had to turn his head to look over to the white-haired kid. "Gideon!" He continued at the former villain. "Get over here and strap yourself in!"

"You don't get to tell me what to do!" The irrational boy threatened, pointing his finger at her brother as hard as he could.

"Just let him fly in peace you idiot!" Pacifica screamed.

The blonde too was worried, like all of them. Like both the Pine-twins, she seemed to make a desperate attempt to find a new dimension in her chair to crawl into and hide. One of her hands was clamping hard onto her brothers. But he didn't seem to notice, clamping down at his armrests as hard as he could himself.

"You'll get us all killed!" Dipper screamed.

"Hello?! Hello?!" The pilot shouted into the micro built into his helmet as he continued to peer through the front windshield. Mabel hoped he had better luck up front. Because from here all she could see was whiteness. "This is Northwest One. I repeat, this is Northwest one. Sending out a distress signal. Is anybody reading me? We are flying blind out here! Is anyone getting this. Mayday. Mayday. Anyone respond. Zero visibility. I repeat: zero visibility. Is anyone getting this?"

Static returned.

"We're all doomed!" Gideon wailed dramatically as he grabbed onto the pilot, shaking his arm.

"Someone get him out of here!" Claude yelled.

The buckles were off before she even knew it.

"Mabel, sit down!" Dipper yelled. "It's dangerous!"

His words were accentuated by the particularly heavy tumble the plane took. Mabel felt herself lifted into the air smacked to the ground.

"Mabel!" Dipper yelled over both the loud motor and the heavy, pounding winds.

She crawled up though, steadying herself carefully. "I'm cool bro-bro." She said, edging forward to the cockpit slowly. She could see Gideon, squirming and frothing was trying to recover from a fall himself. From the corner of her eye she could see Dipper trying to undo his own belt. He even tried to rise from his seat, all to drag her back to hers.

Before she could even tell him to remain seated, however, Pacifica did it for her.

"Don't go!" She shrieked, holding onto his left arm for comfort and burying her face in his right. "Don't leave me here!" She continued irrationally

To her credit, the plane did feel like it was about to be ripped to shreds.

"I got this Dipper!" She shouted over all the ruckus. "Trust me!"

He glanced at her, with that serious look of his and then, begrudgingly, nodded.

It was all the approval she needed. As if she ever needed any.

Clawing her way past the sofa's she neared the sobbing and frustrated peer. "Gideon!" She called out.

"I repeat. This is Northwest one! We need a baring on our current location. Radar is down. Visibility is zero. Is anyone there? Please respond!" She heard the panic even in the pilot's voice.

It reminded her, despite the Gleefull boy's pitiful performance, to understand his reaction.

"Gideon!" She tried again.

"I don't want to die!" They boy said, his little stumpy legs wobbling underneath him as he clung to the passenger seat. The tears were in his eyes. "I don't!"

"You won't!" Mabel shouted back, trying to comfort him. Holding herself to the wall with one hand and focusing most of her energy on her two legs to keep her steady in the heavy pressure inside the hollow of the aircraft, she extended her free hand. "Please come with me!" She added. "Let's go sit down!"

"No!" He screamed, turning his gaze aside. "No! I can't!"

"Mayday! Mayday! Please respond!" Claude interrupted.

Mabel was growing desperate by this point.

"Do it for me, Gideon!" She tried, figuratively feeling the bile in the back of her throat as she spoke the words. Yet they seemed to have some effect.

"What?" The boy asked through wet eyes, cringing.

"Be brave!" She explained, offering her hand once more. "Come sit with me! Keep me safe!"

He stretched out his own hand gingerly. It seemed to quiver more than the plane did. "All… Alright. Mabel, alright." He said as he took it carefully. Reaffirming his sweaty grip he stepped forward, back to the seats with Pacifica and Dipper, dragging her along. "Let's go." He said, dazed and shocked, but less afraid somehow. More determined for sure.

"Is anyone reading me?!" Claude tried once more as she started to move away from the cockpit.

Even here there was nothing but white outside. And static from the radio. It matched.

"Mike." An old, taped voice burst through on the radio before she moved out of hearing range. "Echo. Mike." It continued.

"What's that?" She called

"Oscar." The voiced trailed down the list.

"Just an old, short-wave numbers' station or something!" Claude answered.

She almost couldn't hear the radio say "Romeo." As he talked through the transmission.

"Buckle yourself in kid!" The pilot shouted.

"Yankee." The station added before Claude turned it off.  
"This is going to get bumpy!"

They made their way back to the seats, slowly and tiresomely. Finding some of his southern-charm back, even in the face of danger, Gideon made sure she was seated first. She was more than apt to buckle herself in. But she didn't protest when his chubby little hands fumbled to do it for her. It would be faster this way, rather than arguing about it. And after she'd managed to get him this far, it would be best not scare him off again. Only when she was tightly in her chair did Gideon strap himself in.

His face was as white as his hair by now. He was whispering something underneath his breath, to himself. But she couldn't quite make it out. By the looks of it, he kept repeating it as some mantra.

"I think I see the lake!" Claude called out from out front. "Hold on tight, we're going in!"

Her eyes locked with her brothers, seated in the exact same position she was. Her mirror image. She was certain she had the same scared yet, against all odds, trying to look comforting look about her. With her eyes she tried to comfort her brother; tell her it would be fine. As he did for her.

She felt the decline in her gut. A most unpleasant, anxious feeling. Her ears were ringing with the drop in altitude. Her teeth were clenched. Her eyes shut. She had a falling sensation. And a building dread for when it would stop.

Until it did.

* * *

The snow retaliated; even as Wendy's footsteps crushed it, step by step. Amidst the white, low hill it formed, the dark hole she'd chased her personal white rabbit through last night, loomed. She took a moment to collect herself as the good doctor drew up to her. He too peered down the abyss, trying to will it into something more favorable through sheer willpower.

"I am sure they are fine." He offered eventually.

"And if they are not?" She asked, standing before the void outlined by the ancient slabs of stone. "I called them here. Mabel and Dipper might be coming here as we speak because I asked them to. They might be out there, in that storm. If something happened to them, it'd be my fault. Just like what happened to Tambry. And I can't have anything happen to them at all. They are like, the best kids in the world and junk."

"What happened to your friend is not your fault. It's the fault of whatever might or might not be waiting for us in these depths. And whatever happens to your other friends is not in your control right now. Focus on what you can do. Remain vigilant. Remain focused. Think of the job at hand and nothing and no-one else. I beg of you."

"I got in and out last time, didn't I? And that was in the dead of night."

"Do not underestimate the vampire." Van Hadeschant warned. "Think only of it."

"Well." She said, taking out her phone. It was mostly full, having recharged earlier last night. "Let's go save the day." She said, flicking on it's light.

"Yes." The doctor agreed, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  
With one of his arms he opened his long coat. And with minimal effort he pulled out a long torch hanging inside it. She gazed upon it with wide-eyed wonder as he pulled out a golden container, popped off it's exquisite top and drenched the rags bound around the wood with it.

"Really?" She asked. "A real life torch?"

"Burning with holy oils." He agreed, bringing a silver lighter to the drenched rags.

With the flick of his thumb they were a lit.

"You have your ways, youngster. I have mine." He added, pocketing the lighter and walking into the darkness.

"Does that matter?" She asked, for once following him somewhere. "The holy oils? Do holy things fend of vampires?"

Van Hadeschant hesitated as he descended the ancient and crumbling staircase made of stone. "It's difficult to explain." He said.

"Try me."

"Holyness is a key part. But… It's in the eye of the beholder. A vampire is emptiness incarnate. Therein lies it's hunger. And from that hunger and lack of attachment and distraction comes it's power. But it is it's greatest weakness too. A man raised in a Christian land may fend it off with a cross. A man raised in Jewish culture may use a star of David. Or anything else he's learned. There are all manners of customs and talismans and rules one can use to fend off the vampire. And all depend on what the defender makes real. Holiness is a concept, one we strengthen ourselves. It's what we truly find value in, that repels the vampire. Exactly because a vampire can not bestow value. It can only consume. That is all it knows. I was raised, believing in the importance of sacraments. Of holy oils and crosses. Of blessed water and garlic. Of salt and stakes and decapitation. They've become my weapons because I learned to see them as such. My guess is, you coming from a similar culture, have overlapping idea's on this."

"So… whatever we value, is something we can use against the vampire?"

"Yes." He agreed. "So if you're like any other teenager, that smartphone of yours must scare the unliving hell out of it."

For a second time in less than a day's time, Wendy Corduroy found herself descending into the darkness of the forbidden tomb. Yet it's shadows, dancing in the light of her companion and herself, were no more familiar than last time.

She pictured the shrieking, horrid faces of the thralls that had awaited her down at the tomb's lowest level. No matter where she shone her light, however, she could not find a single one. She knew she should feel grateful for that much. But she couldn't shake the dreadful presence that weighed on her in the darkness. Something looming just out of reach, hidden in the shadows. Yet with every step they took, descending deeper and deeper into the void, she knew they got closer.

"You said; stay focused on the vampire?" She tried eventually, hoping to break the silence that had befallen them, before only broken by their soft but echoing footsteps. "But what of it's thralls?"

"The thralls are just an extension of the vampire. They have no will of their own, poisoned too much by the creature's control. They are mindless puppets now, but in essence nothing but a sword for the monster to wield."

"What will happen to them, after we defeat it?" She didn't dare say ' _if_ we defeat it'.

"Without a vampire master; the thralls will return to their old selves. Of course, those that have been it's undead servants for tens or hundreds or thousands of years, will return to what they would be now. Dust. They are held together only by the willpower of this monster."

"If they don't have a will of their own, what is the point?" She asked, trailing behind the shadow-clad doctor. Her grip on the ax firm as she looked about, expecting to encounter resistance at every turn.

"Excuse me?"

"If they don't retain their own personality… Their own will… What is in it for the vampire?"

"I still do not follow?"

"You told me vampires are hunger incarnate. An emptiness hoping to consume all. But they always try to dominate people. In any flick I've ever seen, they view themselves as aristocratic lords. They see themselves above the human populace whom they view as cattle. But they wish to be acknowledged in their superiority. If you make a thrall an extension of yourself, rather than someone bound to you because you make them, then that's not dominating; that's just being. Why would vampires try to look beautiful?" She remembered the ample figured redhead in the mirror. Beautiful. And terrifying? "Why would they live in castles? Why would they even talk to humans? They always do in the movies. But if you don't look to another to measure yourself, than why keep up the pretense? Why pretend to dominate when actually, you consume?"

"Because it does not understand it cannot do both."

"Come again, dude?"

"Despite all their attempts to boast and impress, despite their veiled attempts to seem mysterious and knowing, a vampire is nothing if not simple. Dangerous. Ja. But simple."

"You have a way of not making them sound dangerous, though. You're telling me it doesn't even know a thing abot interaction? It sounds like we're fighting a toddler."

He turned. The flames trailing after the torch, illuminating and darkening his features all at once. "They are dangerous." He assured, his eyes drenched in shadows; accentuating his impressive brow. His glasses dancing like liquid gold as they reflected the flame. "This is exactly why I need you to focus. Not only it's weakness but also it's power lies in it's simplicity. Is a shark less dangerous because it can't be distracted by art? Is a wolf less dangerous because it doesn't wake up pondering societal decay? A vampire is a predator. It may have a single-track mind, but one that leads to death, despair and decay. It desires to dominate. But it aims to consume. It knows nothing of empathy. You are right, it does not know how others work. It can not comprehend it. A mind outside it's own is a foreign idea. All it knows is itself, and all it cares about is itself. It does not understand emotion, worship or individuality. Yet it craves them. It hungers for it. It will not stop, unless it is stopped because it does not understand. It can not grow through sharing itself with another. It thinks it grows by taking, not by giving. Unlike we humans understand. So it will turn everything into it's puppets and leave nothing but corruption. Nothing but itself. We're not fighting an entity, Fraulein Corduroy. We are fighting a virus with a brain."

He turned once more, now facing his back to her. The contempt in his eyes for the lowly virus was still burning bright in her recent memories. Despite his age and the faint reek of alcohol still on him and more apparent than ever in this stone cave, he showed no signs of wavering as he continued deeper into the void.

* * *

There was a distinct tugging and pulling, long before Dipper opened his eyes. Uncomfortable and accompanied by an unintelligible droning. His head hurt and his neck and shoulders felt strained. Those were the first sensations he could make out as the recollection of the past events bubbled to the surface of his wandering, beaten and cowering yet wandering, mind.  
The sudden storm that had unpredictably arose. The hysteria. The panic. His sister leaving her spot in the airplane to fetch Gideon. The pilot's shouting and then… The shock alone should have been enough to make him open his eyes. And still he hesitated. It had potentially been a bad fall. And who knew what damage it would have wrecked.

Dazed and confused, he couldn't quite sense everything yet. Perhaps his legs would be broken. Perhaps he would be paralyzed. Perhaps his sister… All manner of terrible prospects arose as his grasp on reality returned without pity. And yet, to open his eyes would be to take away all doubt. His lids were the only protection he had left against those horrid possibilities.

It wasn't until he recognized some of the droning as a grunt or a moan, coming from his sister. And as his eyes took in the light around him, the world turned from blurry to sharp. From unreal to real.

Claude loomed over him, shaking both him and his sister by the shoulder with those long arms of his.

"Come on kids." He spoke in a gruff demeanor. "Dead passengers ain't exactly good on my resume."

"I'm up." He moaned, eyeing his waking sister. She looked not half as bad as he felt. A few bruises maybe, but no bones protruding from flesh. No teeth on the floor. No blood, even.

"What happened?" The Pines boy asked automatically, as he unbuckled himself.

It was a stupid question, he'd later admit. He knew damn well what had happened.

"We were crashing." Claude reaffirmed, though, turning his full attention to Mabel. "I managed to put her down on the lake though. A bit of a rough landing but..."

"Any landing you can walk away from, right?" Dipper asked. He rubbed his legs, glad to feel they felt his touch. He could even move them, he realized. "How is she?" He inquired.

"Dipper?" His sister's voice croaked warily.

"She's fine." The man blotting her out reassured. "Can you check on the blonde?" He asked. "Mind her neck. We don't know how it is. Hey kid…" He continued his last part, solely to Dipper's twin-sister. "How many fingers am I holding up?"'

Dipper turned to his side and saw that Pacifica had been slung to the other side of the chair whilst remaining buckled in. She seemed to be sleeping. If anyone could sleep in such an uncomfortable position. The young investigator left his seat and hunched over.

"Pacifica." He whispered.

Her closed eyelids twitched. Carefully he leaned in closer. His hand touched her left arm carefully.

"Pacifica." He repeated.

Her eyes appeared through two narrow slits.

"Dipper?" Her voice full of fatigue, wonder and confusion. "Is that you?"

He was so relieved the words escaped him. Instead he simply smiled.

"Am I dreaming again?" She asked. Sounding like she was about to fall into unconsciousness again.

"Uh..." Was all he could stammer, his grip on her arm tensed slightly.

"You brought the entire Sev'ral Timez ensemble too, right?" She continued, closing her eyes.

"Wait… What?" He uttered, utterly confused.

Her eyes shot open as she pulled herself up into her chair. Her former display of lethargy now fully gone, in the blink of an eye. In one fell swoop she returned to the standoffish, haughty rich girl he knew and… well _liked_ would have been a big word, really, wouldn't it?

"I owed you for that one." She said, as if it were an explanation of sorts. He was lost for words. "See how you like it." She grunted, undoing her buckles. "How's your sister?" She asked in a less annoyed fashion, looking over, after she finished.

Claude moved out of the way, revealing a battered but steady Mabel. She lifted up her index-finger and shouted, dazedly "I am Goddess amongst mortals!" She shouted. "Immortal. Industructible. And as beautiful as I am Eternal. Fear my reign!" She sagged.

Dipper glanced over to a wide-eyed Pacifica. "She'll be fine." He answered, not impressed.

"Look." The pilot said, taking charge as he lifted Mabel from her seat.

"Wow..." The girl interrupted. "Where am I?" She clamped onto the man's shoulders as he straightened up.

"I'll get your sister out." The man continued. "There was a building nearby, we should check it out. Maybe it's got a land-line or something. And with the motor off, this plane will get mighty cold real soon. You two take care of your chubby friend over there and meet us there."He turned on his heel and moved to the other side of the plane. Even with one arm free, he managed to opend the door on the side of the plane. As the cold air greeted him, he didn't even shirk.

Dipper shivered. California was a lot warmer than this sudden, unexpected storm. And while he was glad to back in Gravity Falls, or at least in it's general vicinity, he wished he'd brought a thicker coat.

"Come on." He said, rather than complaining. As he scooted over to Gideon, he beckoned him with the boy's name.

When he'd tried a second time with an equally meager result, a fear seemed to take hold of Pacifica. "He isn't…?" She started.

Dipper spared her the need to finish. "No." He answered. "Gideon's breathing."

You could see it if you kept your cool and knew to look for it. The boy's round belly moved as the boy in- and exhaled silently.

"Gideon." He repeated, slapping the boy gently on the cheek. "Wake up man. You in there?"

The televangelist-like kid shrugged. His short arms flailed oh so slightly. And his pudgy face frowned deeply. He was mumbling something. Dipper found himself leaning closer, placing his ear next to the boy's mouth to hear what it was.

"What are you…?" Pacifica started.

But he cut her short, hushing her with his lips on his index finger.

It took him a few seconds, but he finally understood what the boy was saying.

"Just… forget..." The boy whispered feverishly. "Forget all of it… Please… For… Mabel… Forget it… Forget."

By now, Dipper was frowning too. He hadn't liked the idea of Gideon Gleeful running around with a memory-gun to begin with. Now it seemed like the worst idea possible. Carefully, as not to wake his former foe, he reached for the fat boy's inner pocket. Inside the suit he'd find that dangerous contraption. If he could take it from him and smash it on the floor, there would not be any problems. And Gideon wouldn't even be able to prove that it'd been him. The bumpy landing could have caused it; if he made it look right. But in any case, he had to get his hands on the gun first.. Pacifica was staring intently on the opposite side, unaware of what exactly was up but without a doubt feeding on the tension. He tried to move aside the fine fabric, but tugging it, with his hand on the boy's man-boob, was enough to wake him up.

"Huh… What…?" The dazed kid asked, still coming to, to his surroundings.

Dipper reacted fast, pumping his hand down on the boy's chest.

"Come on, breathe!" He shouted. "Seven. Eight." He counted, releasing the grip.

Faking CPR would either prove to be his dumbest move yet, or his greatest feat of thinking on his feet ever.

He grabbed the boy's nose and pinched it shut between his thumb and index-finger. Much to his would-be patient's dismay. By the time he moved in to perform the mouth-to-mouth, Gideon was protesting quite passionately.  
Dipper was the wrong twin, after all.

Truth be told, he was most grateful Gideon had gotten his bearings in time. He'd never have lived that moment down. It was one thing to save your sister's mermaid-fling. It was quite another to lock lips with a spewer of hogwash. To put it kindly.

"What in tarnation!?" The white-haired kid protested, angrily slapping away Dipper. "What is wrong with you, boy?!" He continued to shout.

"Gideon!" Dipper feigned his exuberant glee. "You're back! You had us worried there for a second."

"Don't you ever…!" The shocked kid began. "Dipper Pines. If ever the Grimm Reaper comes a callin' for this here youngster again, and the only alternative is your kiss of life, let the angels sing me to my rest, you hear?!"

"Crystal, dude." Dipper replied, making the gesture of excellence. "You feel ready to get out of here? Claude and Mabel are outside already."

"I don't need no help from no-one." The angry kid spoke, obviously still dazed and alerted, admittedly understandably so, by the entire ordeal.

He fumbled with his seat-belt impotently. Grunting and cursing as he did so, failing to unbuckle it.

"Need some help with that?" Pacifica asked, mockingly.

If looks could kill, Pacifica would be pushing daisies by now.

Dipper seized the opportunity of distraction to press the release mechanism on Gideon's buckles. The latch released and with it, for better or for worse, Gideon was once again free to roam Gravity Falls.

"Come on." Dipper said, slinging the boy's arm around his shoulder, carrying him slightly. "It's been a rough ride, but you can lean on me."

"But… I..." Gideon fumbled, clearly wondering if this was the afterlife. What other reason would Dipper Pines have to be so kind?

"What are friends for, am I right?" The Pines-twin added cheerfully, dragging him along.

It couldn't hurt. If there was some wicked scheme brewing in Gideon's head surrounding the memory gun, a display of friendship might either deter him from it. Or on the other hand it gave the impression that Dipper was oblivious to it.  
Nevertheless, as he passed her, he locked eyes with the suspicious Pacifica. Without getting caught by the white-haired kid, he aimed two fingers at his eyes first and then at the struggling con-artist.  
By the look on her face, he knew she understood.

 _Keep an eye on this one._

* * *

When they reached the altar-room at long last, they found it still lit by the torches hanging about the circular walls. It would've been classified as mysterious and suspicious to find them all still burning as brightly as the night before, rather than burned up and cold. But Wendy had seen too much truly strange things in her short life growing up in Gravity Falls. This barely registered in comparison.

Van Hadeschant seemed impressed though. To say the least. He eyed the room, golden and shimmering in the light of the other torches. She was finally able to once more gain the lead on him, as she walked past his frozen figure.

"You okay, man?" She asked. "Yo. Is there a doctor in the house?" She continued after he failed to respond.

"Ja. Ja." He spoke, shaking his head. He sounded a little irritated.

"Something the matter?"

"Nein. It's just..." He sighed ponderously.

"Just what?"

"I told you vampires crave. Desire. They don't understand why luxury and beauty and high standing are what they are. But they crave it none the less."

"Right?" She asked, pocketing her smartphone.

"This is most undignified." He explained, raising his arms to encompass the room.

"This is not just a tomb..." He said. "This is a tomb." Something in her gaze must've betrayed her confusion. "It's not fancy enough." He explained. "I don't know why the vampire would want something like this to be it's home. It is a mess."

"Does it really matter?" She asked. She gestured for the pile of dust by the man's feet. "Try not to walk in mister thrall over there." She said, before beckoning him over. "Just take a look at this altar. Maybe you can get an idea about how to stop the vampire from this." She added, walking over to the place where she'd found Tambry. The broken mirror still hung over it. The shards still lay atop it, blotting out parts of the weird markings of the stone slab.

"Wendy." The German called.  
She turned to face him. Only to find him pulling a silver cross from his bag.

"I told you." He went on. "This is a tomb."

His emphasis on the last word struck home. Slowly, she turned back to the altar. This time seeing it for what it was.

"You mean..." She asked, backing away slightly, as she pointed at the high, stone box.

She was grateful to hear his approaching voice. He pressed the cross in her free hand and she accepted it immediately.

"Ja." The man said.

She could see the wooden stake and mallet in his hands. The shoulder bag dropped to the ground. His torch abandoned at the entrance of the burial chamber, smoldering on the floor. His eyes were fixed on the same grave that held her attention.

"She's in there?" She heard herself ask dimly, hating the confusion in her own voice.

A nod.

The man's gaze flickered to the heavy broken mirror. His thick brow frowned in puzzlement.

"So what now?" She asked.

Van Hadeschant, still holding the stake and mallet, placed his hands on the corners of the heavy slab atop the shrine. "Do not let dwindle your attention. Stay focused." He ordered. "And keep that cross up."

"Right." She said, complying.

He turned his head, looking up at her. "When I open this, you do not lower that cross for anything." He warned. "Not a single thing."

"Right." She nodded.

"It will try to trick us. It will try to make us lower our guard. It may not succeed."

"I said right, alright?" She bit back, reaffirming her grip on both the cross and her ax.

"Okay." He agreed, returning his full attention to the slab.

With some grunting and a lot of effort, it began to move. The scraping sound filled the chamber. And Wendy tried to look past the darkness Van Hadeschant opened. But as he pressed it along, his body hung over the upper part of the vampire. She expected the body to jump up and tear off the man's throat. But it remained silent and still. Perhaps because she was doing such a stellar job with the cross. She liked to think so in any case.

With a final push, formidable and admirable for an old geezer his age, the slab toppled over. It' thud echoed through the depths of the tomb. When he straightened himself, Wendy could finally see more than the exquisite red and dark red, Victorian dress. She could see it's occupant. And it was not a pretty sight.  
Honestly, she hadn't known what to expect inside the grave. And perhaps this was not far-fetched at all. But she really hadn't expected to find a rotting, ancient corpse.

"WTF, man?" She said, lowering the cross only slightly.

Van Hadeschant's own arm swung up to correct her error immediately. But still, the corpse had not moved an inch. It's dark brown and black arms were crossed at her waist. The pose she'd been left in was a dignified one. But whatever beauty the maid may have once had, it was long gone now. Dark holes where eyes had been. Dead hair. And she could see all of the woman's teeth. Her skin having rotted and retracted all around the eternal smile. Wendy wouldn't have believed she'd just met a vampire, if it hadn't been for the fangs.

But most telling of all was the stake already piercing it's heart. It plowed straight through fabric, bone and what must have once been skin and tissue. Straight into her chest. The top was blunted from where a hammer must have struck once, repeatedly.

Her eyes fell to the stake still in Van Hadeschant's hand. This made little sense. If the larger one, still protruding from the woman's chest, was supposed to have put her down, what had been all this business before?

"Das kann nicht sein." The doctor breathed.

"Hey…" She said, trying to brake the tension. "It's bigger than yours." She said, pointing at the wooden stake sticking the corpse.

Though she thought it funny, or at least clever, under these circumstances, it did not ignite any laughter. Nor any notable response for that matter.

"So what now?" She asked.

He grumbled. "This might require some creativity."

His hand moved for hers, without as much a glance. When it became clear he was reaching for the cross, her voice shot out. "You told me to hang onto this."

"Don't be daft, girl." He said, grabbing hold of the silver cross and tried to yank it from her grasp.

She didn't let him. His eyes, behind those gold-reflecting glasses, pierced her.

"This is no time to question the chain of command."

"You're different." She accused. "More angry. How do I know this isn't some trick?"

His gaze remained transfixed for a few seconds. Then, he smiled miserably.

"I'm not different, Fraulein." He spoke, his voice a mixture of irritation and shame. "I just have a headache and feel sick to my bones."

"The vampire?" She asked. Perhaps it was exhausting some dark spell or a wicked effect.

The man shook his head. "The hangover." He replied. "It is kicking in."

"Oh." His eyes were red-shot behind that dancing gold, she reflected. "What do you want the cross for?"

"Holding it up will be more dangerous than rummaging through my bag." He answered. "I need you to find a vial called the balm of Lysea. You'll also find an old book in a language I don't expect you to understand. Could you fetch them for me, bitte?"

Her pause and silence was telling.

"You don't trust me?" He asked.

"I don't know you." She answered. "Corduroy's didn't survive by relying on strangers."

"Fine." He answered. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed or amused. It was hard to guess with the grey fox. In any case, he let it go, sighing "Sie folgte mir hier." He spoke louder as he dropped to one knee: "Fine, then just keep that cross up."

With her cross in one hand and the axe in the other, he showed in no way the same concern she had; presenting his for any strike that may come. Her own idle pondering scared herself for a moment. Where such a dark thought had come from, she had no idea. Perhaps this cursed place or it's undead occupant was having an effect after all. Weighing the weapon in her hand, however, she knew she'd never be able to actually do such a thing.

All in all, however, she was most glad when the old gentleman rose back up, a vial in one hand and an old leathery book in the other. He pulled the cork from the small, dim, light-blue glass bottle with his teeth and continued to spit it out unceremoniously. The content was poured over the well-dressed corpse. It's fragrance more than enough to make her nose wrinkle. The bottle discarded with a blind toss.

"You don't happen to smoke, do you?"

"Uh… no." She replied.

He sighed again. Rubbing the cold sweat from his forehead he asked. "Not even the occasional joint?"

She stared at him with some confusion and a lot of hesitation. "… No?" She replied eventually, cautiously and unsure of just what the hell was going on.

"You don't have a lighter then?" He asked. He went on sighing, distracted and seemingly feeling truly sick. "Kinder in diesen Tagen ... Das ist eine Arzneimittel."

"No sorry, man."

"Ugh…I hate getting down and back up." He said, sinking down to the bag. He did look like he was about to faint. With the book in one hand he rummaged through the bag until he found a yellow box of matches. He drew out a lone bulb of garlic as well. He needed to support himself on the way up, and was obviously trying to keep the contents of his stomach from coming up themselves. He was swaying just a little and breathing heavily.

Making all manner of disapproving grunts, he opened the vampire's mouth brutishly and shoved the garlic all the way down into the cavern that was it's mouth.

"Ax." He croaked, miserably but effectively.

Though loathe to do it, his voice left no room for disobedience. It was one tired but rich in authority from fighting a losing battle. In his case; sobriety. She handed it over.

He raised it in one hand. And then thought better of his actions.

"You may want to look away." He offered, glancing at her.

But she was a Corduroy. Made from sterner stuff than your average teenager.

"I'm cool as can be."

He merely shrugged. And then, without warning, the ax swung down relentlessly. The corpse had dissolved and rotten enough for it to pass through the neck in one fell swoop. With a discontent groan, he pulled it from the stone underneath and handed it back to her.

At long last, he pulled out a match from the little yellow box. With one strike he lit it and dropped it on the corpse. The body was aflame within a second, burning brighter than any of the torches across the room.

For a few seconds, they stood there, watching the body, dress and stake being consumed by the fire. By then Van Hadeschant had opened the old book. It's pages were withered. Ancient ink on ancient paper. The language one she could not read. Nor understand as he spoke it. As the old man read from the pages, it wasn't until he got to the end that she realized he was, in fact, speaking Latin.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." He concluded, snapping the book shut.

"Overkill much?" She wondered out loud.

He didn't answer, but proceeded to do the first thing she could relate to, standing at the awful sight with that penetrating smell of burning oils and remains. The man turned and retched fiercely, just outside of the grave with the burning remains.

"Maybe you should not drink anymore, man. Doesn't look like you can handle the sauce." She offered.

"You don't really have much respect for your elders, do you?" He croaked, hunched over and leaning on the grave.  
He pulled a handkerchief from his inner jacket-pocket and wiped his mouth.

The smell, already bad with the unholy barbeque going on, had only grown worse.

"Why is it that you ' _adults_ ' always say respect is earned?" She asked, leaning the handle of the ax on her shoulder. "Yet you seem to think you're entitled to it just by being you. I mean, if I were hungover instead of you, what would you do?"

"As a doctor..." He said, straightening himself. He still looked pretty miserable. "I'd inform you on the dangers of alcohol to your body and mind."

"You don't find that a bit hypocritical there?"

"I'm a do as I say, not as I do kind of doctor, Fraulein. Now let's get out of here and go check on your friend." He said, tossing the handkerchief to the flames. "I could do with some fresh air."

* * *

Pacifica plowed through the heavy snowfall, seeing barely a foot in front of her. In the distance, however, the blurry shape of the building mentioned by Claude loomed. She hoped it would provide comfort. The metal plane, danged up from the landing as it was, without a functional motor, would not keep them very warm. Nor could they make a call for transport in the state it was in. Rubbing her arms for warmth she made her way, following in the footprints left behind by her chauffeur. Somewhere behind her Dipper was helping along Gideon down the same path. Not through malignancy but rather through familiarity it never once crossed her mind to lift a hand herself. Besides, she was already preoccupied with her own furious thoughts. Explaining the damage to the plane to her parents would need some work, so it was best to already get started on it. Perhaps she could pay her chauffeur to go to town on the thing with a wrench and blame it on hooligans or the blizzard. The latter would, strictly speaking, not even be a lie. Rather an omission of truth, if she opted not to tell the plane had not been firmly on land when it suddenly hit.

When the building finally came into focus, it resembled a flat-topped, one story prison. It was built sturdyly but with little eye for finesse. The builder obviously had efficiency and productivity in mind, over the welfare of those that would frequent it. It wasn't a surprise, as it was a most familiar building. Her father had never concerned himself about luxury when it came to his employees.

Standing in front of the heavy, red metal door between the gray-bricked building, Claude stood shivering. He was still holding Mabel in his arms, who was either doing worse than Pacifica would've guessed or looking for warmth herself in the tall man's embrace. Knowing Mabel, it could very well be the latter in any weather.

"We should head b-back to the plane." Claude warned, his teeth clacking. "Place is closed and no-one's home." He added.

It was true. The few windows behind the heavy metal bars were shut and as dark as could be. The place had been shut down years ago.

"At least t-there it'll b-be w-warmer." Claude shivered.

"Don't lose your panties to frostbite just yet." She told him dismissively as she walked up to the heavy metal door.

The control panel at it's right was still there. She pulled the code from memory and dialed it in. The door creaked, but it opened none the less. Thank God for back-up generators.

She walked in without hesitation. Her employee was quick enough to follow.

"What is this place?" He asked, out of the wind and into the darkness.

The room they entered was vast and not well lit. She knew there were lights around here somewhere, traversing the walls, she looked for them.

"Property of my parents." She spoke bitterly. "Put down the girl and help me look for the lights." She ordered.

"But she's..." He started, sounding concerned over Mabel.

"She's only interested in your strong arms." Pacifica interrupted him.

She could see him hold her at a distance, examining her, still expecting to find her unconscious. The discomfort and confusion was easy to read on his face when she spoke.

"Heh." She said in a tone of voice that at least had the decency to sound a tad embarrassed. "It's true." The brown-haired girl admitted. Squeezing his biceps she added. "Those are quite some guns you have there, Claude." To say her voice was flirty would've been to say old man McGucket occasionally had a slight senior moment. "Have I ever told you how much I want to see Paris?" She asked, pronouncing the city's name with an admirable accent. "Beaucoup, Claude." She finished in a whisper. "Beaucoup."

He placed her down, wide eyed and fearful, in silence. In true-Mabel-fashion, the girl seemed oblivious to his dismay. Pacifica had to admit though, after the man's betrayal, it was fun to see him in such an uncomfortable position.

"Lights." She reminded him.

He seemed grateful to have something to do.

"Dipper!" Pacifica heard Mabel call her twin as she continued her search.

Apparently the last two of their group had arrived. And they sounded as surprised and captivated as her chauffeur had been.

"What is this place?" Gideon and Dipper asked in unison.

It could only have been timed better if she'd been the one to find the switch. But she'd settle for Claude proving his worth. As the light's flickered on, her companions could see the warehouse for what it was. A large, mostly empty room. Pallets and conveyor-belts were scattered everywhere amidst the complicated and dangerous-looking machinery. Metal and concrete in abundance. Stacks of white sacks and bleak lights present as well. The place looked more depressing inside than out. And that was saying something.

As she twirled around, she raised her arms dramatically, showing them the full extent of one of the Northwest's failures.

"Welcome." She hosted. "To the abandoned Northwest Salt refinery."

"Oh I remember this." Gideon said, breaking free from Dipper as he moved deeper into the room on his short, stubby legs. When he reached on of the 40 pounds bags and eyed the blue logo on top, his suspicions were confirmed. "Yeah…" He said, attempting to hold one of the bags up and failing miserably "The Northwest 'Salt-East Shaker' company." He explained.

"The very one." She admitted, joining the rest of them. "Claude." She ordered as she walked. "There's a thermostat right over there." She pointed at the far-end wall.

"Yo, pump up the heat!" Mabel threw down.

He was off quickly. Though Pacifica suspected it wasn't quite to adorn Mabel's wishes. As her peer waved him off, she leaned in to the Northwest heir and in a whispering tone asked: "Is there a miss Claude?"  
Pacifica crossed her arms and felt like she should say something sarcastic. Truth was, however, she'd actually missed this. So instead of going the full mean mile, she snorted amiably. "Mabel..." She countered. "That guy is like two and a half times your age."

"I'm not hearing a no." The wild girl concluded happily.

"He's way too old for you, dingus." Pacifica smiled.

"I'll have you know I've grown up a lot since we last saw each-other face to face, Pacifica Northwest." Mabel replied putting up a mocking performance of being offended.

"That would be more convincing if you didn't have pink cat with heart-shaped sunglasses on your sweater."

"And the words 'Smooth-loving cool cat'." Mabel insisted firmly.

"So this place is your parents'?" Dipper butted in, looking about the giant room. "What happened to it?"

"It got shut down." Pacifice replied. She turned and beckoned them all to follow. "Come along dorks." She said. "There are land-lines in the offices. Maybe we can use them to call someone."

"Why did it get shut down?" Dipper continued.

"Why do you think?" She asked, leading the way. "My father heard about a salt-reservoir deep underground. These grounds were perfect for getting to it, and with a proper processing facility, he could make a fortune. So he bought the land from the original owners for little money. I suspect he... _pressured_ them to sell. At first, the business went well, with little cash flowing in, he managed to draw a lot out. But the quality of the stuff…"

"It wasn't good?" Dipper asked, walking up next to her.

"Oh it was the greatest." Gideon professed. "I thought I'd never get to season my dishes with this stuff anymore."

From the corner of her eye she could see he'd taken two smaller bags of the stuff along with him. The same stuff that had been there, unattended, for years and had less than adequate to start with.

"The taste was fine." She admitted. "It was the true quality of stuff. My parents cut back on inspections, the machinery, health-regulations, the refining process, … Just about anything really. When a mandatory health-inspection came, however, it turned out they'd delved so deep into the reservoir that they'd started to come across a different soil. I don't remember the name, but it was actually slightly poisonous. Nothing major in small amounts, but some people eat fries with their salt, of course."

"Only the finest of American traditions." Mabel nodded knowingly.

"So they got a cease and desist, huh?" The male twin asked.

They'd gotten to a door, metal with a little frame high up. Pacifica pushed it open, revealing a circular room inside. Apart from a small walkway at the edges, the place was one and all water. It was a thick, smooth stone tub; deep and wide enough to host a fairly large pool-party. In the middle of the stone tub stood a pillar. Currently it wasn't moving but in the old days it's one, long arm would go around and around, all day long.

"What's that?" Mabel asked as they edged their way, sticking close to the walls.

"Some unique and cheap way to purify the salt in the water, or something." The blonde answered. The office lay just at the other end of this room. Despite the difficulty, it was a shortcut.

"Anyways..." Pacifica went on. "It wasn't a cease and desist." She explained. "Father realized it would just be cheaper to bribe the inspectors rather than needing to either pump more money into the refinery or give it up all together."

"I guess that means those bags are poisonous, Gideon." Dipper said as he edged along.

The fat little boy didn't seem to care however. "You heard the lady. Only in large amounts." He said. When that got a judgmental stare from the rest of them, he added, in his defense: "What? It's really good!"

"Anyways." Pacifica continued as she crossed the half-way point on the circular room. "Less salt, more poison. Even with the health-inspection turning a blind eye, it couldn't last long."

"Lawsuits?" The junior detective ventured.

She nodded. "We got sued by the dozens. Kidney-problems, hormones out-of-whack, people reportedly hearing colors, ..."

"That's awful."

"Oh no." She countered absentmindedly, focusing on not slipping into the giant, deep reservoir. "We had pretty good lawyers, they handled everything."

"That's not why it's awful!" Dipper spoke with righteous indignation. "It's… Nevermind." He sighed.

"Anyways..." She stated, matter-of-factually, as she reached a larger part of the platform near the door they'd been trying to reach. "The place became a recognized safety-hazard and production was breaking even with the lawyer's fees. Dad shut down the plant because of it." She pushed the heavy door open and lead them in. "Of course he should've torn the place down. Elongated stay here is toxic, just ask the workers. But it was cheaper to make that order disappear rather than actually going through with it. So here we are..."

And here they were. The office was not a grand one. But it would serve. Amongst the four groups of four cubicles were plenty of phones adorning the plain desks. Dust and cobwebs hung about the place, along with forgotten calenders sporting cats hanging onto trees and motivational posters only the very gullible or the very self-absorbed would fall prey to.

"Like..." She said, moving to the nearest, simple, metal desk. She reached for the phone. "When I was little I was taught to believe we were helping the town with this place. But we just robbed the natural environment of it's resources, forced the locals out of their land and poisoned everything without having to pay the consequences."

"Only the finest of American traditions." Mabel repeated herself, laying it on thick this time.

"Well… Maybe I'm paying for it now." Pacifica said. The phone, pressed to her ear, was as dead as could be. "It's not working." She complained, hanging it up.

She could feel the irritation well up inside her.

"It's going to be okay." Dipper offered gently, placing his hands in his pockets. "At least we're warm." She couldn't tell if he genuinely wasn't worried, or was simply putting up a convincing act. "We can wait out the blizzard in here, whilst we continue to build up enough poison until we can hear colors." He added, lightheartedly, in his cracking voice.

"Or..." Claude spoke. His unexpected return was enough to give her a fright. Though she tried to compose herself thereafter soon enough. Her chauffeur closed the door they'd come in through as he continued. "We could walk to where I parked the limo. It's not that far off, definitely walking distance. I can have the snow-plow on it in no-time." He added. "We'll be back in town in no-time."

"Walking through that blizzard is insanity." Gideon objected, sounding cross. "And my atire's taken plenty a' poundin' already, might I remind you. If ya'll think I'm going through that one more time, ya'll are more deluded than a tourist at the Mystery Shack."

"What blizzard?" The chauffeur asked, indicating them to listen with his index-finger.

There was nothing to hear. No howling of the wind. No pounding of the snowfall. High up, the greasy, dark windows didn't permit them to look out easily. But Pacifica bet that if she could, she would find that the blizzard had stopped.

"Finally, some good luck." Mabel spoke cheerfully.

* * *

Van Hadeschant looked like crap. But still… The clear and fresh air seemed to be agreeing with him, Wendy reflected. He drank it greedily, filling his lungs with them as much as he could. She had to admit, she was glad to be out of that hell-hole too. Entering it twice had been about two times too many.

Despite the storm and snowfall having ceased, it was still freezing out there. Yet the leaning man, back against the stone entrance to the tomb, was sweating like a pig. He seemed feverish and shivered something fierce.

"You going to be okay?" She asked, confronted with his appearance all the more in, relatively, bright daylight.

He smiled with his red face and pointed upward. "No more snowstorm." He said. And added "Sunlight."

He was right. From between the thick, but dispersing, clouds a few lonely columns of sunlight graced the earth below.

And it wasn't that she wasn't grateful.

But… "You going to be okay?" She pressed again.

He waved it off brusquely. She had to admit, she enjoyed the buzzed Van Hadeschant over this one. Perhaps the man did too, and that was like to be the problem of it all. It could have been a manner of bad timing, and his stupor having been a one-off thing. A binge on a night he hadn't expected to work. But in the composed manner he'd handled himself last night, she could read the signs. She'd seen them before. The man had come to a point already in which he needed a drink or two to function properly. He'd spent so much time intoxicated that he'd learned to present himself well when being in that state. She, however, also knew of the phase that would come if such daily abuse continued. And him being a doctor, he probably did too.

Either way, he didn't seem concerned about it now; more focused on the agony he faced at the moment. He pushed himself off the stone wall and, dragging the heavy bag along, walked into the woods.

She followed suit. "I thought you said the real vampire wouldn't go down quite that easily?" She asked, absent-mindedly studying the silver cross still in her hand.

"I assure you…" He said. "No one's ever been more glad to be wrong than me." He slung the bag over his shoulder and added. "Though we should remain vigilant for now."

She concurred, sliding the handle of her ax beneath her belt. She knew she should return it, and she would, but it could wait until they were certain all danger had come and gone.

"You think Tambry is fine now?" She asked.

He pondered that for a second, as they traversed the snow and roots in silence. "Hm." He spoke eventually. "She might still be weak. But I'm hopeful. If the vampire's hold over her is broken, she should make a full recovery." She could tell he was trying to be comforting.

But she remained doubtful as she ploughed through to the town. Wendy would never have denied she could at times be a bit of a slacker. Knowledge of one's self was an honest and useful trait, after all. But, for once, she couldn't help but shake the feeling that all of this had been a bit too easy.

* * *

 _The eternal sensation remained present. Hunger. Her eternal companion. The need to feed fueled her. It was always there; her bedrock. Inescapable. Fated. Destined._

 _It could never be blotted out. Not a need that great. Not a desire that encompassing. There was no escaping it. There was no denying it. There was no ignoring it. Hunger was her very being._

 _And yet, something long forgotten had now resurfaced. It could never take that need's place. But for the moment, in it's challenge, it seemed like it could. It was burning with a passion she'd not felt in ages. Anger. Rage. Fury. The names returned with the experience. And for the briefest of moments in her existence, it drove her._

 _They'd desecrated everything. They respected nothing. They faced something greater than themselves and did not recognize their own puniness?! How dare they? Their existence was futile. Their lives an insult to what truly mattered. Her. All there ever was, was Her._

 _The memory of indignation was strong. It fed her. It made her strong. For the longest of time she'd longed for no more than to feed on prey. But now it was different. She had adversaries. Enemies. Feeling her fury grow stronger and stronger still, like a raging storm, she knew they'd fall like any other of the lesser beings that had ever crossed her path. But not to feed. No. Simply to destroy. To annihilate. To right the affront they'd committed. To quench this entirely new form of desire._

 _All she needed would come. And all would be settled. All would be made whole. As long as she held onto that hunger and rage. As long as she kept the memory._


	5. Catastrophe Imminent

**A/N:**

 **A very angry ravage** , Nope. And it very well could. But you don't want me to spoil everything, do you?

 **Loopy Leefy** , Thank you so much for the compliment. Looking forward to more of your replies. If you can stand my update-rate.

 **Anonymous. Mister Anonymous** , I'm glad you like the story. Your kind words have been very encouraging. I hope you don't mind me leaving some stuff in the dark.

 _Question. If anyone has any of the codes deciphered. Let me know. I have fun putting them in. It'd be cool to know someone cracked them._

* * *

 **Gravity falls: Red moon**

 **Chapter 5: Catastrophe imminent**

* * *

Mli phmgl-wvz sj Ahwiw, pohwi wbmc mm dtw xh nnevw aai igakervl - tkebulx aavf sv potx hhll rsm jeieksr etiltv; iolkcfhkr, wshuxv sk stxik, oth xh nh xlxyx, erw uhfswf permlw xs vhkvc hmy xlx lgxvtuvi.

\- Efikswx Ibivvl

* * *

"You fella's are certain that mean breeze won't be firin' up again, ain't ya?" Gideon complained somewhere far behind the rest of them.

The rest of them being the wonder twins and Pacifica Northwest herself. They did their best to plow ahead through the thick blanket of fresh snow. The outskirts of the city would be just around the hill. And once they'd made it from the abandoned salt-factory to the hangar for her family's plane, they'd unanimously decided it'd be faster to walk back than to have to dig out the half-a-meter of snow so the limousine could get through.

And with only one shovel anyways, that was something for the hired help to amuse himself with. Claude could have the car back at the new Northwest manor by nightfall, he promised. But no sooner. It'd take him almost all day to dig to the main road which Old man Mcgucket's automatized sweeping units kept clean and traversable.

With some luck he'd even be able to dock the airplane back into the hangar. And if he went to work on it with a baseball-bat or a tire-iron… All her problems would be solved.

Well… Almost all of them.

Trailing just behind her was Mabel. But with impressive speed for a (technically a) teenager with such short legs, Dipper strode far ahead. His temper clearly foul.

Tugging her winter's dress up and pushing forward to follow his footsteps as he continued through the clearing in the woods, up to the distant main road, she called out to him. He didn't look back. But that didn't stop her. She honestly wondered what it was that had gotten him in this mood. It clearly wasn't just his drive to get back to Gravity Falls anymore.

"Dipper!" She yelled across the white plains. "Wait up!" She continued, ignoring Gideon's cowardly question. "You're going to fast for the rest of us."

It was only because the wind carried it to her, but she thought she heard him grumble.

"What's that?!" She shouted, trying to beat the wind.

"Then keep up!" He sounded cross.

"Look!" She tried, hoping to bury whatever resentment this was. "I don't know what gotten into you..."

He stopped. Allowed them to catch up. She was glad she didn't have to force her voice anymore.

When they'd caught up, mere tens of yards from the main road, she felt a lot more like herself. With some regained authority, especially in contrast to the Gleefull kid's panting, she asked him: "What's wrong?" Why are you acting like jerk all of a sudden? If this is you entering puberty, Dipper, you could have left it at the camp. Seriously."

"You don't even know, do you?" He bit back. She felt searched for a reaction. He didn't seem to find it. "You honestly don't even know."

"What?!"

"You Pacifica." He sighed angrily. "Everytime you do something worthwhile… Everytime you get me to think you've changed… And then bam!" He smacked his fist into his palm.

"Then what did I do? Is this about my parent's salt mine? That is not my cross to bare, okay? I do not want to destroy Gravity Falls and it's surroundings." She was honestly getting a little ticked off about this.

"It's not about the salt mine!" He exasperated. "Well, okay, in a way it is! But not like that."

"You are, like, not making any sense at all." She crossed her arms.

He shook his head. "It's not even that big of a deal..." He argued. "Let's just go."

"Oh no." She retorted, wagging her finger menacingly and laying the sass on thick. "You are not getting off that easy."

"Yeah bro." Mabel added sheepishly. "What's the matter?"

"Fine. Remember what you said back at the Salt-mine? About your parents? You were so cross at them for getting away with their actions. It was inexcuseable to you. Just rich people using money to solve everything."

"Yeah… So?"

"And then, without a second thought, you ask your chauffeur to dang up the airplane and make it look like hooligans so your parents won't suspect what you've done and can focus on getting the insurance money back instead."

She was lost for words.

"Come on, bro..." Mabel tried. "That's not..."

"Just another Northwest stealing to fit their needs?"

The slap rang out across the field. Even with the ongoing wind. But, even as the shocked look settled on his face and the red on his cheek spread, she was grateful. For he stopped talking. And she couldn't hear another word of it. Perhaps because deep down she knew he was right.

His hand crept up gingerly to the sore spot. The surprise in his eyes clear now. Next to her, Gideon and Mabel had their gasps somewhere stuck in their throats. She'd almost be able to see them in their open mouths.

"I'm…" She started, surprised at herself. "I'm sorry…" She said. This entire thing had escalated so quickly. And honestly, now, she wished she could take it back.

"So am I." He spoke earnestly, rubbing the red. "It's just…" He tried, avoiding her eyes. But that was alright, she was doing the same to him. "I'm tired. And I just… Last time I saw you… And now… I don't want you to turn back into who you were. I know you don't."

"I don't." She admitted. "But I'm not yours to fix either."

"I know." He seemed embarrassed.

"I mean you guys… Well you guys know what you do. What you mean. That you're important..."

"D'aaaaaaw." Mabel clasped her hands together, her voice over dramatically sappy. Pacifica both hated and loved her for it.

"But you gotta trust me and have to let me grow on my terms, not yours." After a pause, a horrible, difficult pause, she continued. "And if you feel like I'm slipping, I want you guys to tell me. But… Don't judge me. You don't know what I've been through. Nor what it's like for me."

Even Mabel didn't try to lighten the mood now. So she guessed it was up to her to break the silence and get them back on track. Even if that wasn't her strongsuit.

"Besides..." She used a light tone of voice, hoping she sounded far from serious. "It's not like stealing from your insurance really is stealing after all."

"Wow." The twins spoke as one.

"What?" Gideon asked.

They eyed each-other, and then Mabel, knowing her brother felt the same, explained. "We just suddenly realize how much we miss our grunkle Stan."

She had to laugh.

They all did.

* * *

He walked her to the Northwest estate. But Wendy could tell the good doctor was not keen on following her in. As she drudged up the heavy stone stairs and fumbled in her pocked of the key, as the axe dragged along beside her, she said as much.

"Nein." The old man admitted, following her loyaly though. When she miss-aimed the key on the lock in a sleep-drunk mistake, he took it from her gently. "I want to go home. Feed my dog and sleep for a few hours. You should rest too." He warned. "I must go feed Pavlov. And do something about this terrible headache."

"Pavlov?" She yawned as he turned the key in the keyhole and turned it open.

"My dogs." The man explained.

She could barely keep her eyes open as she lead him in. "Dog." She corrected him absentmindedly. "Dogs is plural."

He seemed to bite his tongue for a second. But it barely registered with her. She had hardly any energy left after all the exploits of the past few hours, the lack of sleep and having moved past the adrenaline-high. And she needed every bit of it to go and have a look at Tambry. She needed to check if the girl was doing better by now. She couldn't be bother with a foreign drunkard's different social ques.

Van Hadeschant seemed to be reading her mind. "In any case..." He started. "I suppose I should first check up on our patient, ja?"

"Appreciate it." She acknowledged, tiredly waving him to use the master staircase in the impressive hall.

It didn't take the duo long to get to the guest room in which Tambry was housed. And while her heart seemed to stop for a micro-second as they pushed open the oak door, It proved unnecessary. Tambry and Robbie were still where they'd left them. Tambry asleep in the bed on her back. Robbie holding her hand, seated in a simple wooden chair next to the bed. Though now he too had fallen asleep. And he slumped over the unconscious girl.

Without any consideration, the doctor dropped his heavy bag. The thud was followed by one of her own as the ax slipped from her fingers and banged on the ground.

But she was glad to see that while Robbie shook up, flailing like a flamingo on cocaine, Tambry at least responded to the sound. Her head shook. And she mumbled something, once more. It was enough to get her hopes up.

"Wait… What… Who?" Her disoriented ex uttered, standing upright and posing to fight the world and nothing all at once. "Red?" He asked, as soon as he recognized her.  
It was rare to not hear the accusations and anger in his voice.

"Did you fix this?" He continued.

And there it was.

"Perhaps." Van Hadeschant answered for her, pushing past her and towards Tambry. "Move aside boy." He ordered, as tired and out of patience as she felt.

"Boy?! Look here old man...!" Robbie started. She could tell when he was getting riled up.

So she grabbed him by the arm and tried to soothe him. "It's okay Robbie. Just let him do what he has to."

The old doctor hadn't even bothered to look over at the teenage boy. Instead his eyes were focused solely on Tambry. Even with his back turned to Wendy she could tell he was checking her pulse and pupils, amongst others. As well as the bandage on her neck. On the whole she guessed his grunts to be positive.

"So?" Wendy found herself asking. "How is she, doc?"

"Better." The man grunted, laying down the girl's arm gently. As he turned around he repeated himself. "Better."

"Alright!" She held her hand up high, awaiting a high-five. "Team 'Wendy The Vampire slayer' for the win, am I right?"

Either the doctor didn't understand the gesture. Or he feigned it really well. Somehow, she suspected the latter.

"You seriously going to leave me hanging, man?" She asked. "Robbie, you are seeing this, right?"

Van Hadeschant ignored her. "It is not clear if it's because the link is broken, or because of the transfusion and the rest. We must yet wait and see."

"I've been waiting and seeing all morning!" Robbie grumbled. "I want Tambry back right now."

Peering through his little round spectacles, Wendy saw the old man staring down her former boyfriend. His gaze, though not cruel, void of empathy.

"By all means." The doctor said, waving towards her unconscious friend. "Then make her better? Go on now. Show us what you'll do. I'm very keen to learn."

"You..." Robbie swallowed his words.

But to be fair, Wendy wouldn't have known what to say either.

"So what now?" Wendy asked, getting to the heart of the matter.

"You need to keep an eye on her. Here is my phone number." He said, giving her a card from his inner pocket. "Call me if there are any changes whatsoever in her condition. I will be back before nightfall. Don't be out by then."

"What are you going to do?" Robbie asked as the man reaffirmed his grip on his medicine bag.

"I have some business I must attend to." The doctor spoke sternly, striding past them both.

"And what is that?"

"Sleep off this goddamned hangover." The man said whilst opening the door and passing through it. "And feed my dogs." He added, disappearing into the hallway.

"Dog, dude! Singular is 'dog'!" Wendy shouted after him.

"I don't like that guy." Robbie mumbled to her, returning to his seat.

"While I tend to agree with you on this one, you don't like anyone Robbie."

"Oh, just shut up and sit with me."

You had to know him well, but she figured he'd liked that jab, just a little bit. Though, true to form, he'd never show it. So she simply pulled up a chair and sat herself down on the opposite side.

"I don't trust him neither." The young Valentino added in a sulking tone.

"See above." She sighed.

"You sure this is better than bringing her to the hospital?"

He was looking to her for confirmation. Truth be told, she didn't know. Not for sure. Though, as unlikeable as the doctor might prove. In the short time she'd met him, he did seem tor rise to the occasion where needed. He just faltered everywhere else. And besides, with what she'd seen tonight, it seemed like a normal hospital wasn't going to cut it in any case.

"I do." She lied. "You told her parents what I told you to say?"

"She felt like she was being followed. And thus she ran to me. And that she's fine now, but resting. Turns out it was all her imagination. She'll be sleeping over with you tonight."

"Good. They'll buy that. Tambry's parents aren't too invested. That gives us some time. The less people to meddle with this, the more of a chance we have of fixing this in time."

"That's why you called in the wonder twerps?" He asked sarcastically.

"That's different. You know why that is." She retorted. He didn't answer back, but instead just caressed Tambry's hand. "Anyways… I hope they get here soon." She added. "I'm afraid something might've gone wrong."

Robbie seemed unimpressed. "Huh." He uttered dismissively. "If they can make it out of the end of the world, I'm sure they'll pull through a trek one state over, Red. I'll say this much for the little brats; they are durable."

* * *

Trekking through the snow was argues work. And he'd had more than his fair share of it today. And yet, tucked in against the biting cold, Van Hadeschant plowed his way through. His head was swimming and he had to do his best to keep his walk on a straight line. It felt like, with every step he took, his loose brain banged into his skull, bruising it further.

On foot, in these conditions, it took him most of the morning still before he reached his home. Even with as early as he'd set out with the young Fraulein, the day was flying by fast. And it unnerved him. It had never been this easy. Never.

He didn't want to think everything was okay now. He knew the dangers of such a lax attitude. And all he had to do was remember the most beautiful face he'd ever seen: that was enough. Never again. He wouldn't allow it. He'd never let his guard down again.

The doctor's house was on the outskirts of the town. It had to be. The noise Pavlov tended to make attracted visitors. Visitors who'd be frightened of his dogs. Who wouldn't understand. Who'd dare take them away. Even now, as he neared the old villa, now resembling more of a ruin, Pavlov barked.

 _Poor mutt. Afraid to be abandoned._

The front door creaked as he opened it. And with great relief he dropped the heavy bag. Pavlov's loud barking stopped the moment he entered. And he was grateful for that. The loud noise was pure torture with this hangover.

He'd left the radio on. That helped sometimes. But, hearing it now, he could hardly blame the dogs for their ruckus.

The voice on the radio could, in the most kind of ways, still only be descrived as obnoxious. With all the problems with communication in and out of this town, due to the heavy storm, however, local broadcasts were all they had. But still, that man was irritating. " _And so in conclusion…_ " The voice on the radio droned on. " _According to our last reports since the snowfall made communication with the outside world utterly impossible, as well as to my own personal opinion on the matter, the united states government has started fining people that refer to soccer as football. This is America people, we have our kind of footbal. American Footbal. And if you like soccer that much, I ain't stopping you from getting out. We don't need your kind here anyways. This was Bodacious T with sports. Back to you Shandra._ "

'Bodacious T'… _Gott_ … He hated this place. He hated it so much.

" _Thank you, Bodacious T._ " A much more pleasant feminine voice took over.

He could hear Pavlov shuffle their feet and go back into it's basket. He'd take it out for a walk later, but as upset as it must've been with his sudden departure, it had to be dead tired. So instead he walked past the dimly lit salon on his left, and pushed all the way through the main hall into the kitchen.

" _In other news…"_ The woman continued. _"It seems like our sports anchor is going crazy from us being snowed in for two days now. And perhaps from his lack of access to his medication. We still have no word on our local police force, Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland. If anyone sees them, could they please tell them to get back to digging us out? This morning I woke up to Bodacious T standing over me, just staring. I don't honestly know how much more of this I can take._ "

He found two large cans of dog-food in the kitchen, in one of the chapped cupboards. Bits of paint fell down as he slammed it back shut. With more difficulty than he'd care to admit, he began opening the cans. Pavlov didn't stir. He'd eat only when he was certain Van Hadeschant would stay for a while. Besides. It'd want something more as well. _Stubborn beasts_.

" _And now to weather with our stand-in weather man, because he got trapped in here with the rest of us, Tad Strange._ "

Van Hadeschant sighed audibly as he pulled the cork off a dark red. He found a hunk of two-days old bread on the counter and poured the contents off the bottle straight over it. He didn't care about the mess it made on the kitchen counter. Nor about it dripping over the cabinets and spilling onto the floor. He'd deal with that mess later.

" _Thank you Shandra._ " A confident, calm and rather deep male voice took over. " _Tad hates to be the bearer of bad news, Gravity Falls. But as a stand-in weather man, I suppose I heave my duties. While the Snowfall seems to have stopped again, for now, the forecast does not look all that a-okay. In fact, it may look like we won't be able to see the Celestial event during New Year's eve. Many of you have probably been looking forward to this. I know I have, but it would seem..._ "

Van Hadeschant turned off the radio on the kitchen's counter. He didn't need to hear this. If the celestial event didn't take place, it would be all the merrier. But somehow he knew it'd be unavoidable. What he needed now was rest, and quiet.  
He grabbed the, now soggy, hunk of bread and kept the stinking cans of dogfood close to his chest. His knees wobbled as he poured the food unceremoniously into three bowls. Each of which said Pavlov.

"Frühstück!" He called out unsteadily before stumbling into the salon.

With one final effort, he threw the piece of wine-soaked bread at his dogs. His strength gave out as he fell face forward into a long sofa.

Pavlov didn't even look up or whimper. He could tell without looking. They'd gotten to know each-other well over these past few years. Too well to be surprised.

The couch, set messily in the middle of the room, was lumpy and old. But comfortable and familiar. Yet it did not banish the uneasy feeling he had. Something was coming. He could sense it. It's anger. Out there, somewhere. Preparing to strike. Something strong and dangerous. And he couldn't help but realize, he wasn't ready. Not this time.

Moaning and groaning and his nausea both growing and lulling him to sleep, he reached deep into his pocked and pulled out an old-time pocket-watch. It's silver glistened only in his mind's eye. The dark wouldn't allow it.

He opened the second compartment, showing him the picture. The reminder not to be lax.

"Mina." He breathed, as he had a ten thousand times before. And like ten thousand times before, his eyes grew misty before he closed them and fell asleep.

On all the walls, the bundles of garlic, bottles of holy water and oils and crosses loomed over him as he slept on the couch in the middle of a circle of salt. Keeping him safe from all the night had to throw at him.

* * *

Wendy shook awake and cursed herself. She was getting used to this by now. The drowsiness was still on her. She rubbed her face and looked over from a sleeping Robbie to her best friend, expecting to find her asleep still too.

Instead, her breath stalked in her throat.

"Hey." Tambry whispered weakly and softly. Her eyes uncharacteristically interested in her surroundings. It was a look Wendy hadn't seen for years.

"Thanks." She continued her whisper.

Wendy took her friends hand in her own and felt the girl's pulse, strong enough now, running through her own hands.

"Don't..." Wendy whispered back. Whispered. Not because she wanted to spare her or Robbie. But because she couldn't get over the frog in her throat. "Don't thank me." She continued. "I should have been there earlier."

"You got me out." Tambry's eyes were growing misty. "You came through." The girl's fingers squeezed Wendy's, softly but surely.

"Hey man..." Wendy asked, wiping away a single tear of relief. "You need anything, or are you good?"

Her friend seemed to consider this for a second. "… Water." She concluded. "Could you get me some?" Her voice croaked.

"Yeah, sure dude." Wendy said, getting up and feeling the weight drop from her shoulders.

"It's just… I'm so thirsty. … Very."

"It's cool. I'll be right back. You just wait here."

"Like..." Tambry said, resting her eyes. "Not going anywhere girl."

Wendy needed to take one last look before going through the door. In it, as she watched her friend rest, the lack of light from outside dawned on her. It had to not yet be dusk. But it was getting close. Of course, in these parts of Oregon, in winter, dusk came fairly fast. Though she wondered just how long she'd been asleep. Would she find Van Hadeschant downstairs? He had to be back by now.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, she headed down the hall. And then down the stairs. The kitchen, where she could find a glass of water, was as good a place as any to start her search for the melancholic medic.

Along the way to the kitchens, located at the back of the mansion, she called out his name. Yet he didn't respond. Moving through the big, empty rooms was a bit disturbing, to say the least. Definitely with all that had transpired in the last 24 hours or so. The ominous feeling that something was wrong, was something she couldn't shake. And with the sun setting with every second, her feelings of dread rose.

When she heard murmuring and other unintelligible conversation going on from behind the brightly lit kitchen, behind the glazed windowed door. Her worries subsided some. Obviously the old man had returned and was looking for more garlic or communion wine or holy sauerkraut or whatever; chewing out the kitchen's staff.

"Yo, doc." She called out loudly, planning on informing him of the state of his patient, as she swung open the double-door.

What she found, once again, made her breath freeze. If only for a second. And to be fair. It seemed to do the same to the two occupants of the kitchen.

Later, she would not be able to say who moved first. She herself, or the wonder-twins seated at opposite sides of the kitchen island covered in heavy tomes. But they ran to each-other, open arms and all smiles, clasping together just about mid-way, calling out each-other's names.

It didn't take her long to lock them both in a playful choke-hold. They laughed contently as she bellowed: "How are my peeps?!"

The rug-rats had grown! Not tremendously. It had only been a few months. Even if it felt like it'd been years. But Dipper filled out her old hat a bit better and Mabel was every bit as tall as he was. If not just a tad taller. Perhaps by a millimeter or so.

"Oh Wendy, it's so great to see you again!" Dipper's hoarse voice cheered as he wrestled free and hugged her back.  
It wasn't long before the pair of them, as ever stronger when they worked together, managed to push her to the cold floor, laughing. And she couldn't but help join them loudly and gladly. With them here, it seemed like a promise that things would turn out alright. And any last worries she'd had lingering about regarding Tambry melted away like the thick snow outside would do come springtime. Now all she had to worry about was this being a good dream she'd wake up from soon, at Tambry's side.

* * *

Van Hadeschant didn't wake with a start. Instead his consciousness clawed and dragged itself from the swamp of fatigue, prodded on by the sharp stabs of withdrawal. The hangover was gone now, replaced by a much more draining sensation. Along with the faint taste of vomit in his mouth. He groaned, tossed and turned, caught between the desire to go back to sleep and to get up and fix himself another drink. He'd need a strong one to make the shivers go away.

When at long last he couldn't but help open his eyes. He could see Pavlov had gone. They were probably outside, running in the fenced of yard. That was fine. They would return to it's basket after he'd left to get back to the Northwest mansion.

Groggily he searched himself for the pocket-watch he had on him. Wanting to see her face again. Her comforting smile. He needed to be reminded.

Yet he never got that far.

His eyes fell on the clock's hands. It was getting late. Too late already. This couldn't be right. The longing for a drink was pushed back with a sense of distress and pressure he'd not felt in a long time. His paces steadfast, he drew himself up from the couch and walked over to the nearest window. He opened the curtains, to find the sun descending. It's orange light starting to cast long shadows on the far off hills. Soon they'd swallow it whole.

"Verdammt." He breathed to himself.

He'd slept too long. Too late. He'd have to hurry to get back to the mansion before nightfall. Even if the vampire was probably destroyed; Leaving those kids alone in the dead of night would be a form of neglect he could not accept from himself. He'd have to get there, even if it meant facing the darkness. If worst came to worst… He still had other torches he could burn with flaming oils.

The gears inside his mind worked fast. Rationalizing what first to do and how to get ready in the fastest way possible. He'd need stuff. Weaponry. Protection. Yet he had to get a move on…

And most important of all… Even more than that half-a-bottle of Jack Daniels he saw before crashing... He had to check if the prisoner, locked down in his basement, wasn't dead yet.

* * *

A good thirty minutes later, Dipper looked up from the heavy book, almost as big as he was, as Wendy re-entered the kitchen. The glass of water she'd taken with her absent now. This time she emerged from the doors with a lot more dignity and sense of calm. Though he realized he still couldn't quite wipe that stupid smile off his face, seeing her here again. He made a quick note with his half-eaten, chewed up pencil, on his scribbled pad. Lest he forget the specifics on the rules of invitation a vampire needed to abide by before entering someone's sanctuary. There was a lot of information in the book titled "Horrors of the Night: Gravity Falls' Nocturnal Guide". But he wasn't certain of the validity of it all. It wasn't like it had been written by his great-uncle Ford. He hoped some of the others on his list would prove more useful. But still, ever since the journals had burned at the hands of Bill Cipher, it was a luxury to have any form of information on their adversaries in the remote, little town. Any scrap was worth penning down.

"So..." Wendy said, sauntering over.

It was only now that Mabel, who was busy with both the sharpening and the decorating of effective yet fabulous, wooden stakes, noticed her. She knocked over a container of glitter which poofed into a sparkly cloud.

"What's up with your face, dude?" Wendy snorted, laying her hand on Dipper's cheek.

His face turned red at the touch. And not simply because of the mark she was implying to.

"Hah." Mabel laughed. "Lover's quarrel."

"Oh ha-ha-ha." Dipper uttered sarcastically. At Wendy's questioning look, he added. "Pacifica slapped me. I had it coming though. And we were all a little bit tested at the time."

"Pacifica went to have lie down, you said earlier?" Wendy asked, continuing.

"Yeah. She said she hadn't gotten any sleep whatsoever, what with Gideon being on the plane and all." Mabel answered for them, putting aside an especially pointy stake with no less than three peacock feathers on it.

This seemed to knock Wendy off guard.

"Gideon?" She asked. "When did she pick him up?"

"Didn't pick him up." Dipper said, snapping the book shut. "He was waiting for her. I swear, that guy is up to something."

"Well, we were lucky he was there. If he hadn't used his memory-gun, the camp-leaders would never have let us leave." Mabel admitted.

Wendy claimed a stool and sat herself down at one of the empty sides of the island.

"Memory gun?" She asked.

"Pushing an agenda." Dipper said, tapping his temple knowingly. "What was he like when we were gone? Did he seem like he was up to something nefarious?"

"Dude." She answered. "It's Gideon we're talking about. If he started acting normal, I'd be getting worried. But no. He hasn't helped us much with the new cases. But he could be counted on whenever Soos and I needed help. I get the feeling he was working on something and thus keeping to himself. … A memory-gun. Could just be it, guys. Next time we see him, we ask him what he made it for. Mabel destroyed that thing with good reason. I he around here somewhere?"

"No." Mabel said, more cheerfully. "I asked him to go fetch Grenda and Candy for me. He was happy enough to oblige."

"And that was a smart call." Dipper said, tapping one of the tomes. "I've got a lot of lecture to go through. Can't be having his constant flirting with Mabel catch me off guard."

His twin shuddered.

"Oh, no." Wendy exclaimed. "Bad call dudes. Look, we think we got everything under control but he can't be out there at night alone. Not yet anyways. And definitely not unarmed."

"Well of course." Dipper's voice told her he was on the same page. "We've got a vampire on the loose." He continued. "No one should be out alone at night. But with the way the street are, and with his chauffeur back at the lake, he can't make it back in time. We told him not to return during the dark. If needs be, he could spend the night at Grenda's or Candy's. They don't live far from one another. So since the phones have been going dodgy ever since the blizzard..."

"We couldn't call you before it hit either."

"Yeah. Well, now you can't even call anyone in the town." Dipper replied.

"Just an expensive paper-weight now!" Mabel exclaimed, holding out her cellphone.

Dipper could tell by the stickers and glue that it had suffered the same total-makeover the stakes were receiving. Wendy dug into her pocket and pulled out her own smartphone, obviously checking for reception. The surprise crept on her face noticeably.

"Not cool." She uttered.

"So after we hit the library we asked him to go get them himself. Some of Mabel's " _Oh please Gideon, do it for little old me_ "..." Dipper did his best to imitate his sister's voice as he clasped his hands together. But the effect was drained by his own, croaking voice.

"I do not sound like that." Mabel wasn't amused.

"And he couldn't refuse." Dipper continued. "Once he was gone, Pacifica brought us here. She informed us of everything that's happened up to now along the way. And we tried to check up on you. But you and Robbie and Tambry were still asleep. Rather than waking you, we decided to delve into these books so we could prepare ourselves for the vampire."

"And where better than near cookies and milk?" Mabel asked, presenting both proudly. "My idea."

"Heh." Wendy smiled, making a grab for the plate and picking one of the chocolate chip cookies. "I bet. Quite the set of books you guys got." She added, before taking a bite.

"Anything the library had available that in any shape or form could be useful in regards to horrors of the night." Dipper claimed proudly, slapping the tower of literature. "Nothing much useful so far..." He added begrudgingly. "But I'm sure something will turn up."

Wendy checked out the smaller booklet by his left arm and picked it up with keen interest. After swallowing the mouthful as she studied it, she flipped it over and said. "This one ain't from the library."

"Yeah, no. That's mine." Dipper laughed embarrassedly as he took it from her. "I took it with me from camp.

"' _Codes and Ciphers_ '?" She asked, naming the title of the book.

"Well, it's good to keep your mind trained." Dipper answered. He feared he might be blushing slightly. "And being outside of Gravity Falls for a few months, how else am I going to prepare for my own monster and mystery hunting show for when I grow up?"

Wendy laughed. But it wasn't a cruel one. Rather encouraging even. Even her snorts. He'd missed that laugh. More than he could put into words.

"I've been reading Vigenere up to now." He went on, invigorated by her lovely laughter. "Though the next chapter is ' _ATBASH_ '."

"Cool dude." Wendy said.

Her voice was in it, trying to sound interested for his sake. But he could tell codes weren't really her thing. Breaking into secret tombes and fighting unicorns, yes. Traversing the wasteland and saving the world. That was where she shone. Action and decisions. But not puzzling and weighing your options. Truth be told, he admired her for it.

"So anyway, enough about us." Dipper said, changing the subject to keep her interested.

"Yeah." Mabel added. "What's been up here? Apart from the vampire and stuff. Anything else happen while we lost contact?"

The redhead seemed to mull it over. "Nah." She concluded. "I mean, the craziest thing we had to deal with between the Minticore and this dried-up cattle was that meek kid and this burping old guy appearing out of nowhere at the town-square."

"How did that go?" Dipper asked.

"The old geezer in his lab-coat dragged that poor, struggling kid after him, screaming his name all the time and talking some incoherent, loud smack. I chased after them as they ran into the new McDonald's. The boy kept pleading him to take it easy. It was a sad sight, really."

"And what happened? What did they want with Gravity Falls?" Mabel asked.

"Apparently Szechuan Chicken McNugget Sauce." Wendy explained, a puzzled look on her face. "When I followed them in, they were already at the counter. And the old guy, he asked, well yelled at Thompson… Thompson got a job at the new McDonald's by the way."

"Oh good for him."

"Yeah, he's doing great. He says it's paying better than the movie theatre. Some creepy guy from school took his place there. Anyways, the old cook screamed loudly, demanding to know if they had the sauce. When Thompson said, well cried, that they didn't, I was sure the gray geezer was going to obliterate Thompson."

"How so?"

"He pulled out this futuristic gun as he groaned. Thompson cowered and I tried to rush over to save him. The next thing I know, the guy fires it to his side and opens this green blob in the middle of the room. In he goes, dragging the young boy… Was it Marty? It all happened so fast… Anyway, he dragged him along and the next thing we know that blob disappears. We haven't seen them ever since."

"That is pretty weird." Mabel conceded.

"Welcome to Gravity Falls." Wendy shrugged her shoulders, smiling faintly. "At least they left without causing any devastation."

"I don't remember anything about that in the journals." Dipper sighed. "I wish those books were here now instead of these… Grunkle Ford had a lot more to say on the occult than these books."

"You really should talk to the doc. He knows all manner of stuff… I wonder what's keeping him." She absentmindedly looked towards the entrance of the kitchen, as if the man would suddenly emerge. "Anything useful at all?" She followed up, turning back and nodding towards the books.

"Well… some." Dipper admitted, grabbing a dusty old book with both hands. He studied the dried up pages. "But I don't know how much is fiction and how much is real..."

"That's never stopped us before." Mabel smiled, painting some nail polish on the tip of a stake."

"Yeah..." Dipper chuckled. "I guess not. But look at this." He coughed, clearing his throat as he quoted from the book. " _The demon that haunts the nights, stealing the essence of life from beast, babe and man alike roams outside free as the winds it conjures and rides. Yet true freedom aludes this monstrosity, enslaved by it's own desires. It is bound by it's own strengths and it's weaknesses; doomed never to blossom and never to whither. And it is warded off by value, traditions and such rules as even it, darkness incarnate, cannot break. Take it's inability to enter a home without proper invitation. Or it's inability to move in the daylight..."_

"For the record, dude..." Wendy said, leaning, resting her feet on the table. "I think the book's right about the sunlight. The doc claimed as much. Didn't hear him talking about needing to be invited in, though." She added in an aloof manner.

Dipper continued, closing the heavy book. "Anyways. We wanted to rent more books, but it seems someone got to most of the more interesting ones before we did."

"Who?" Wendy asked.

"Dr. Van Hadeschant." Mabel said without looking up, focused solely on her craftmanship.

"Wow. You guys must've just missed him then on his way home."

"Actually..." Dipper explained. "The librarian told us he'd checked them out two weeks ago."

"What?"

"Call it a hunch, but it seemed like this knowledgeable doctor, on the nose on vampires, was aware of everything before he came here."

"Looks like you guys really should have a chat with him by the time he's back." She got up. "Hey anybody want a pitt cola?" She asked, walking over to the fridge.

"You're awfully nonchalant about this entire ordeal." Dipper said as she opened the door.

Hiding behind it as she rummaged through the fridge, she laughed: "Dude… have you met me? So how's that on the coke?"

"Yes please." Mabel said, putting a sticker of a bat on the stake before placing it with the rest of the made-over anti-undead weaponry.

"I'm good." Dipper replied.

The slender girl reemerged with two cans. One in each hand. "Suit yourself." She smiled, tossing Mabel her drink gently.

His sister caught it without trouble. "You're not worried?" The brunette asked.

Wendy looked like she could take on the world as she leaned against the large fridge and pulled the lid off her can. "I was there when we utterly decimated that hag." She spoke with an air of pride. "And now that Tambry's woken up. I'm pretty sure we've seen the last of that so-called threat."

* * *

 _With a single-mindedness came strength. Power. Control. And while this burning sense of pure rage was invigorating, it threw her off balance. The vile creatures that violated Her had to be punished. Her mind dwelled on them without her wanting to. Focused. Obsessed. A strange sensation. She had but a vague memory of it in the olden days._

 _But She needed to tear herself away from such thoughts. Visions of retribution. Of screams and suffering and … blood. She needed to focus on blood._

 _Weak now. So close to being strong. Becoming stronger with every night. Soon. Very soon. Strong enough to defeat that old imbecile. That wretched monster that thought itself clever. And that red-haired one. The one that thought itself brave. She'd show them both. She'd consume them. But slowly. So very painfully. So very slowly._

 _Vengeance. Hold on to that anger. But feed. She must feed. Grow Strong. Feed. Gain. Become more. Feed. Feed. Feed on the red-haired brat! See her body shiver in fear. Powerless. Crying. Soon. But not yet._

 _But who? Her scent was all that was on her mind. And yet. All those the brat had touched. All those the brat had been near. They were all somewhere She couldn't go. Not yet. Soon. Not strong enough. The night was coming. She needed to be ready. Strong enough to break free. To return truly. To no longer remember. But to feel. To be._

 _And once the reflection became reality, all would be hers. Including vengeance. Choose a different prey. Grow now. Grow. Impossible to get any of them. Impossible. Protected. Surrounded._

 _Night falling. Choices to be made. No more animals. Weak as She was. She was beyond that. Too strong. Too proud. Not animals. Yet this She had to do alone._

 _But not him. Impossible. Not her. Impossible. None that carried her scent. None. She wanted that scent. Craved to consume it. Needed. But impossible. None._

… _Except…_

 _Yes.  
One. _

_Alone._

 _Near the dark._

 _So close to walking in._

 _It was perfect._

 _His heart filled with turmoil. Weak. Impressionable. Rage within. Unbalanced. Focused as well. Obsessed. Over the same red haired girl. Drawn. She felt drawn to him. Yes. Feed. Build. Grow. More. Feed. Consume. Feed. Dominate. Feed!_

* * *

Edward Smithson sighed deeply. The automated 3 features, one of which being the eighties classic 'Going Away Again From the Past and Present' were about to start, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared around the hilly town. And yet again, despite the eighties-nostalgia sweeping the nation, it'd proven not to draw any crowd whatsoever. Sat in his ticket-booth in the front of Gravity Falls', as well as all surrounding areas', only cinema, warming himself to the little built in stove, he reflected on this colossal failure and all it's implements all the more. His solitary occupation acting like a natural, unavoidable amplifier.

At this point, the fact that today the freaky blizzard had calmed down, was about the only thing to lift his spirits. Perhaps tomorrow the snow would melt away and Gravity Falls would grow lively once more. And perhaps if the streets in and out of the quaint little town became accessible once more, more people would come. Any people would do at this point. Another night like this and he feared he'd be fired because of lack of clientele. And he needed this vacation job.

Hell. He needed something, anything, to go his way. Where this sudden bout of self-pity came from, Edward had no idea. His pustule-ridden face and the recent addition of his obnoxious braces had indeed given him plenty of warm-ups for a bout of this magnitude. But this seemed different. Like an abyss whispering to him, luring him in. And he felt unable to walk into any-other direction.

Life sucked. He wasn't doing too well in school. His latest clearing cream; " _Le Pimp: Anti-Pimple_ " wasn't working. (So much for taking his sister's word that the French had the best make up products!) His mouth hurt and he sounded like an awkward baboon. His parents didn't understand him. Like at all. That's why he'd been sleeping over in the cinema's janitor's closet for the past few days now; vowing this place to be his home untill they learned to chill out. And as far as he was concerned, this place was his home. It made it all the harder that he was about to lose the only job he'd ever been given. If that happened he wouldn't be able to afford that car his uncle wanted to sell… And if that happened, what would he do when spring rolled up? He needed that car. People would like him more, come to know him more, if he had that hook to snare them in. He'd have more friends. Perhaps even a girlfriend?

A girlfriend… That had been the biggest blow to his ego of all, truth be told. Wendy Corduroy, the singular object of his affection, and admittedly imagination, over the last few months had come by yesterday. He'd felt, in that sweaty, panicky, short moment that her visit had been a gift from the heavens themselves. A break cut for him for all the crap they'd bestowed him with over the last few years.

And not only hadn't she stayed. She'd taunted him as well. Made it perfectly clear, crystal-clear in fact, that she didn't have any interest in him. He'd been left to his lonesome all night. Alone with this thoughts. He didn't like his thoughts… Perhaps that was fitting. No-one else seemed to.

The feeling of solitude rushed coursed through his very being. It grew in strength, pulling him closer and closer to the abyss.

' _Invite them in_.' The strange thought crept into his mind. He mulled it over.

' _Invite them in_.' It grew stronger.

' _Invite all of them in._ "

He didn't know where it came from. But it made sense, didn't it? Be it for work. Or for his life. Everyone was welcome. Everyone could come in.

' _Invite me in._ ' The idea seemed to claw it's way into his brain, not letting go but growing. Growing. And growing more still.

" _Let me in_." It seemed to hiss. Alluring, yet frightening.

He couldn't ignore it any longer. Be it his soul, be it the cinema; he needed someone, anyone, to be there. "Everybody's welcome!" He called out loudly, to the abandoned, vacant streets. "Anybody can come in!" He added.

The moment he'd done it, made a fool of himself if anyone had been there to see him, he felt stupid. What had he been expecting?

He tried to end his trip into self-loathing the same way he'd started it: with a heavy sigh. He soon left the warmth of his booth. Customers or no. He was being payed to do a job. And the entire place could do with a sweeping. At least it would give him something to do. Help get his mind off things.

And really, it already had. With cleaning on his mind, he wandered back to earlier that day. He'd spent a good thirty minutes already trying to scrub away the new graffiti on the men's bathroom-stalls. He'd worked it until he sweat and had still only removed about half of the markings. But the experience was more than enough to have them branded in his mind for good. If he closed his eyes he could still see the words:

" _Thirty-two white horses on a red hill,  
first they champ,  
then they stamp,  
then they stand still._"

He was certain he'd heard that somewhere before. Or read it. It was a nice diversion of the usual scribble found on bathroom-stalls. But he still wanted it gone. At least the boss-man wouldn't fire him for being a slacker. For leaving things lying around, all messy.

There was a cold breeze as he opened the heavy door to the theater.

It seemed to follow him inside.


	6. In the dead of night

**A/N:**

 **Anonymous, Mister Anonymous** , I'm most glad to hear you liked the previous chapter and the little cameo. Thank you for your kind reply.

 **A very angry ravage** , He can't save you now, autobot. Thank you for your comment!

 **AshuriIncarnate** , I am so happy to hear someone is decoding them. I am pretty sure they all work in this chapter. But I've had some problems in my first chapter. So if you think I made a mistake somewhere, feel free to let me know. That being said, I'm not going to give you hints in the A/N how to solve this. You tell me, you certainly seem capable enough! Thank you so much.

 **TheReturnToTheFalls** , I'm so happy you like the story! I hope I can keep entertaining you with this. Thank you.

* * *

 **Gravity Falls: Red Moon**

 **CHAPTER 6:** **In the dead of night**

* * *

 _Slkv blf tlg blfi gsrmth gltvgsvi_  
 _Slkv blf ziv jfrgv kivkzivw gl wrv_  
 _Ollph orpv dv'iv rm uli mzhgb dvzgsvi_  
 _Lmv vbv rh gzpvm uli zm vbv_

* * *

Claude reentered the salt-factory with hope, despite his fatigue. With the sun setting behind the hills and his cellphone unable to make contact, he was, truth be told, effectively stranded. Danging up and consequentially repairing the Northwest aircraft had taken longer than he'd planned. As a result, only half of the road had been cleared of snow for the limousine. And he wasn't about to work in the dark. He had yet to see a vampire and, despite the oddness of Gravity Falls, he wasn't completely convinced the drunk of a doctor had hit the nail on the head with that. Yet digging in the dark and cold in the middle of the night, all alone, remained a terrible idea. Despite the medicine man's competence, or lack thereof.

And besides, he was nothing if not a practical man, he reflected as he set aside the shovel and locked the door behind him. Pacifica would not be able to pay him if she got devoured by an undead creature of the night. But, and this was indeed an important thing to consider, neither could she if he were to get devoured in her stead. So no. No amount of money would get him to dig through the remainder of the snow in the dark.

So, blocking all of that out for the remainder of the night, he set about exploring the rest of the factory. There were some things beyond his control. And whatever happened at Northwest mansion, he estimated, was one of them. What happened in this place, however, was not. If he made his way back to the circular room with the filter and the basin, he could make his way to the offices again from thereon-out. Beyond that, he bet, he'd find a shower. With some luck, it might even still be operational. And after all the hard work since the young blonde had called him out of his bed almost hours ago, the chance of catching a shower was enough to warrant a night in a poisonous, abandoned factory. The prospect of possible running water helped. It's thick walls would keep him safe for the night. And here would be blankets and a sofa to be found. Had to be. They'd keep him warm. And the overabundance of salt, as he'd been raised to believe, would keep out the vampires. If there even was such a thing to begin with.

And as a final fail safe, he still had the twins Mona and Lisa. Sisters he valued way over salt and walls. The glocks in their holsters tied to his chest and located under his arms helped him feel safe above all else. With no kids around, it had been finally been safe to take them out of the limo's secret compartment. How well they might prove against the undead would remain to be seen, he supposed. But even if she didn't, Mona and Lisa were a source of hope and strength of their own. Reminders of a life in the past and with that the reassurance that any tough situation that lay ahead would have some stiff competition he'd already left flawlessly in the dust.

* * *

Mabel returned from her trip to the restroom, not feeling 100%. As she passed through the great hall, she complained to herself, rubbing her own stomach. "Mom and dad were right… I can't only eat cookies and drink milk for lunch and dinner."

The sudden ring of the doorbell was enough to pull her straight out of this bout of self-pity, however. She knew Pacifica had people to do menial tasks like opening the door to guests, but she wasn't the kind of girl to wait for one to show up. And besides, by the sound of it, neither was the person on the other side of the door.

As she made her way over, the bell rang again and again. And in between, a strong arm pounded the door mercilessly.

"Come on." A man with a foreign accent urged. "Come on!" He spoke again.

"Who is it?" Mabel asked playfully, her hand on the golden doorknob already.

"It's me. The doctor." The man.

"Doctor Who?" She asked.

"Van Hadeschant." The doc explained hurriedly. "Now open up, I'm losing daylight here."

She did as bid, all the while humming the all too familiar tune to an old British science fiction series her dad liked, stuck in the recesses of her mind.

"Danke." The man known as doctor Van Hadeschant said hastily as he stormed in.

He was a well-dressed; elder man, she observed. He looked to be carrying a heavy bag and at least half of the world's problems on his shoulders. He smelled like her father after a hard day at work or a visit from her mother's mother. A strong smell usually accompanied by a slur of tongue, but in this case the doctor seemed focused and there was no hint of problems with speech. But perhaps he was not as aware of his surroundings as he could be. For he addressed her as if she were someone else.

"Honestly though, Pacifica, you must be careful not to let anyone in. It isn't until you welcome the vampire, that it can enter your home." He finished berating her as she shut the door, and turned to her. It was then that he noticed she was a brunette. And not a blonde. "Ah." He followed it up, hardly missing a beat. "And you are?"

"Mabel Pines, at your service doc." She saluted cheerfully. "I'll have you know I'm an expert when it comes to vampires." She watched his kind yet fierce face crack into a vague smile. "I've read all the 'Early Evening' books by Stephany Mayor." And with that, though his eyes remained kind, his smile fell.

"Ah." He repeated. "Nice to meet you, Fraulein." He extended his free hand and they shook it. "I've heard quite a bit about your brother and you. I hope your flight was not too much trouble?"

"Any landing you can walk away from, is one in which you haven't died." She shrugged.

"That it true." The man nodded thoughtfully. "In any case..." He snapped right back into action, his back and legs straightened out, spinning towards the master staircase. "Let's go check on our patient, yah? We have only a few more minutes before the last rays of light are completely swallowed by the dusk. I'd like to get it over before then." His longer strides were at a pace she'd never be able to keep up with, so she didn't try.

"I'll go get Dipper and Wendy?" She asked, already on route to the library, where last her brother and his crush had gone off to.

She liked the man, Mabel decided. It wasn't hard for her to like anyone, really. But he seemed energetic and kind enough. She only hoped it wouldn't turn as it so often did, when that smell was about.

* * *

Wendy fidgeted with the radio in the Northwest's fancy library. Whilst not as big and impressive as their original might've been, she'd seen it once emptied but for old man McGucket's collection of 'S _quirrel magazine_ ' the number one magazine on articles on critters and nuts, if it was to be believed. Not that it was a magazine which inspired trust. In any case, it was hard to understand that he'd been able to fill four whole shelves with the things…

Still, she could use the old cook right about now, she reflected. Any man capable of creating a giant mecha robot would be able to fix this damn radio. Once in a while she could get some sound out of it. But the static was too obnoxious to permit. It's strange chatter cut the old time song she enjoyed so much.

"I see a bad moon a-rising." The voice boomed from the radio. "… _Dv'oo_ … trouble on the way." John Fogerty's voice boomed on energetically, clearly unaware of the trouble she was having with the device.

Ignoring her companion in the large, oak room, Wendy bashed the red and blue radio with her fist. Perhaps it wasn't to much avail. But as she grunted. "Come on." And smacked the thing, she felt better for it. When in doubt, punch it. A family motto for the Corduroys.

"I see … _nvvg_ … and lightnin'. … I ... _Ztzrm_ … times today."

"It's not the radio." Dipper explained at her display of frustration, as he stood atop a wooden ladder, studying some of the books in the upper shelves. He was so captivated by his research that he didn't

Still, sometimes he reminded her so much of Stanford Pines in his drive to find out all there was about the supernatural. Or heck, even Stanley Pines and his drive to exploit that supernatural for greens. But passion was passion, she reflected as she continued to bash and curse at the mechanic contraption on the table in front of her. It was going haywire by now. " _Wlm'g_ … _pmld_ … tonight …" The song went on desperately amongst the static. " _dsviv_ … bound to take your life."

"It's everything." The young boy concluded.

"There's … _Wlm'g_ ... bad moon … _pmld_ … the rise… _dsvm_."

"If we could get the radio station back operational..." Dipper ventured whilst studying the books.

All the while John's voice boomed on. " I hear … _Yfg_ … -canes a-blow … _R_ ..."

"Maybe we could get a message through to or from Grunkle Ford." He added pensively.

"I … _pmld_ … the end is ... _dv'oo_ … soon."

"He might have something useful on vampires… I don't know."

" _nvvg_ … rivers over … _ztzrm_ ..."

"But I know that's not helping." He laughed disarmingly.

"I … _hlnv_ … voice of rage and ruin."

"Don't go … _hfmmb_ …"

"Alright. Alright, mister buzzkill." She said, reaching for the knob.

"It's bound ... _wzb_ … your life."

"There." She said, flicking the switch and giving up on the music.

As the Creedence Clearwater Revival faded away, their last sentence was audible in perfect condition. "There's a bad moon on the rise." It ended.

"It's just that waiting and doing nothing ain't my style, dude." She said, leaning back in her wooden chair as she placed her boots on the Northwest's table, probably worth more than her father's entire house and everything in it. Her neck rested in her hands.

"Well, we both know that's not true." Dipper snickered.

"Unless the chips are down." She reminded him.

He conceded, probably remembering the way she stepped up during Weirdmageddon and Bill's short-lived, though not short enough, reign. "Unless the chips are down." He agreed.

"Anyway… " She inquired. "What can I do Dipper?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can find something more useful to do than punching a radio."

"Like what you're doing?" She inquired, ready to take the playful kid down a notch. "How's that working out for you?"

"Okay, I'll admit. Just because the Northwest's have the second largest library in the surrounding area, doesn't mean they have anything useful." He agreed, turning to her on his wooden steps. "For a second there I'd thought I'd had something. But as it turned out, it wasn't really on vampires. It was Pacifica's age-inappropriate romantic novels 'Early Evening'."

"Oh man." Wendy snorted. "The books about those half-vampire, half-disco-balls? Pacifica has one of those?"

"Actually..." Dipper paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. "She's got the entire series."

After a short but effective silence, they both started laughing simultaneously. Until Dipper went on once more. More serious now.

"Anyways, no journals. No Grunkle Ford. No Grunkle Stan." He said. "We're on our own here."

"The radio-tower's been taking a serious pounding over the past few days." Wendy agreed. "If it weren't for us being so close to it, we wouldn't even get the static. Besides, last I heard they were having some storms an electronic issues of their own in the Orient. Dragon's triangle and all that.

You know… We could try fixing it tomorrow. If nothing happens tonight, I'm pretty sure we don't even need to worry about the vampire anymore. But I guess you and Mabel would love to talk to them again. We could try."

"You know a lot about fixing radio-towers?" Dipper laughed. "I'm good with puzzles and mysteries. Not with metal and radio-waves."

"You can't fail if you don't try, man." She shrugged as he took a spot on the table.

She found herself smiling at him. "It's good to see you guys again." She confided. "Just wish it were under better circumstances." She could see the faint blush creep up on him. Still. "If it turns out the doc and I took care of it already, then I'm sorry for dragging you guys over for nothing."

"No don't be!" The boy's reply came back, immediate and shrill. "No. Don't be." He corrected himself in a lower voice.

She had to chuckle.

"I'm glad we're here." He nodded. "It's good to be back." He looked her in the eye with that boyish charm. "I'm sure Mabel feels the same. We wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

He looked past her, distracted by the window behind her. He seemed lost in tranquility.

"It's so different here in winter." He sighed.

"Yeah." She agreed, turning. The night outside had settled, just. But she could still see the snow, on trees, far off hills and the roofs of slightly closer neighbors. Though the new Northwest manor was still without immediate neighbors. It was quiet. But magical in a completely different way than the twins must have seen during summer. As a resident, she'd grown accustomed to it. But through his wonder, it was like she saw it's splendor for the very first time once again.

"Hey, uh… Wendy?" He asked reigning her back into the room with him.

"Got something on your mind champ?" She asked.

"I uhm..." He tried. "I…"

She tilted her head expectantly, awaiting his answer or query with what she hoped was kind encouragement.

"Before we lost contact because of the snowstorm, after you took down the mintycore… You said ' _going away again from the past and present_ ' was playing in the theater, right?"

She nodded.

"Think maybe, if we've got this vampire in the bag, we can go watch it sometime?" He asked, hopefully.

"Sure dude." She answered. "I've missed our movie-nights." She added.

"Cool!" He seemed ready to fight the world.

Which, knowing the pines-family, he probably was.

It was at that moment that his twin barged into the room.

"Hey guys!" She ran in like a chicken with it's head chopped off, slamming the heavy wooden door. "Guess what?" She asked, possibly still hopped up on sugar. Possibly, though, it was just her plain old normal level of energy. "Guess what?" She asked again, before coming to an abrupt halt in their midst.

"What up girl?" Wendy asked.

Mabel froze and paused before she answered. Wendy could see the confused look settle on her face. "Did…" The younger girl started. "Did you guys switch hats again?"

Wendy looked over to her best friend who was once again wearing his blue and white cap, with the little pine-tree in front. And indeed, she herself was once again wearing her warmer hat. They smiled at one another.

Dipper answered. "Well, we decided: when in Rome, you know?" He accentuated it by tapping the rim of his cap. "So what is it Mabel?"

She crossed her arms. "You guys can be so weird sometimes." She complained mockingly.

But, it seemed to Wendy, Dipper wasn't in the mood to be a kettle called black by the pot, even in a lighthearted tone.

"What is it Mabel?" He stressed again, pressing this time.

"What's up?" She asked.

"Yeah, 'what's up'?"

"Doc."

"What's up, doc?" Dipper asked.

"All you're missing now is a carrot and the long ears." His sister winked. "Come on." She beckoned, heading for the door. "The doc's here."

* * *

The doctor entered Tambry's room without knocking. And though the moment he set foot inside the room and took in the sights, it was clear he wasn't the only one surprised. However, he was the first to recover. Walking in on young couple tenderly making out in a bed was still less awkward than being walked in on.

"Gut, gut, Schluss jetzt, genug, ihr beiden." He spoke nonchalantly as he closed the door. "Aus dem Weg Casanova." He gestured further as the grumpy boy he knew as Robbie seemed to stunned or stubborn to move, instead giving him a wide-eyed stare. "Es ist Zeit für ihre Untersuchung." The doc went on as he set down his heavy bag. Only then did Robbie budge.

The boy's hair was dis-shelved and he was covered in hickeys, the doc could tell. Yet his patient herself, as if by magic, had escaped any visual signs of the heavy kissing… Her tired yet pristine look could be a sign of the young man's gentle touch. _Or…_

As Robbie took his place on his wooden chair, doctor Vanhadeschant continued. "I take it you are feeling better?" He asked cheerfully as his patient came into view.

She had the dignity to blush. He was glad to see some color in those drained and pale cheeks. "I take it you are the doctor? Wendy told me about you. Thank you."

He sat himself down on the edge of her bed. "That is quite alright, he said, taking her wrist." He felt her pulse. Steady. That he liked. _But slow._ Slower than ought to be, for her to be this cheery. Still… He swallowed. She seemed oblivious about his internal conflict. It would be best to remain that way.

"Robbie…" He said turning to the boy and peering at him over his spectacles. "Would you be so kind as to grab my flashlight from my bag?"

The sleek boy did as told, though he managed somehow to do it whilst all the way through wearing an expression which conveyed he'd do the absolute opposite. The only time his expression changed from this moody default was when he opened the bag and saw the entire arsenal hidden in there. Nonetheless he managed to find the small torch quick enough and handed it over.

"And the holder that looks like a green purse too, please." Van Hadeschant smiled.

As Robbie sighed dramatically and rummaged through the bag, Van Hadeschant flashed the little bundle of light in her eyes. They appeared responsive and normal. _For now._ But his own eyes fell on the empty bottles on the cupboard next to her bed. He also couldn't help but notice someone, probably the gallant Robbie, had gathered all the bulbs of garlic from her bed together and placed them on a cupboard across the room. Surely, in the bed they'd be cumbersome when they kissed. _But still…_

"Open your mouth…" He ordered. She obeyed and he shone the light down the cavern of her throat. "Say 'Aaah'."

"Aaaah."

No fangs _._ Not visible. _Not yet._

"You've lost a lot of blood." Van Hadeschant spoke casually as he flicked off the flashlight and accepted the holder with a nod. "You have any appetite?"

"I'm very thirsty." She offered.

He nodded, not allowing his expression to change. "Loss of blood will do that. That's normal. Dehydration." And it was true enough. It was nothing conclusive. "You are doing fine, all things considering." He said as he fumbled to open the green holder. As he laid it bare on his lap he pulled out a small vial of clear liquid and a small ball of cotton which rested next to a set of syringes and small bottles.

"Hey, what's that man?" Robbie asked, pointing at it as he drenched the ball.

"Disinfectant." Van Hadeschant replied. "I'm going to give you shot that will make you produce more blood of your own in a faster pace." He added to the girl who shot him a disarmingly oblivious look.

"It's okay Robbie." She comforted her boyfriend. "He's a doctor." She reached out her arm once more.

"I'd prefer to give you another blood transfusion. But I'm afraid I can't ask Fraulein Corduroy to give any more. It'd be irresponsible of me." He added, taking her arm gently. "This may sting just a bit."

He held his breath. As he dabbed the arm, he saw her wince.

"It hurts?" He asked, not skipping a beat.

"Just a bit." She croaked.

He removed the ball and observed the underlying skin. It was faint. Fainter than he'd dared hope. But still it was there, as he'd feared. _Holy water should not burn and damage the ski_ n. Even this lightly…

Still… It _was_ lightly. Perhaps there was still time. He looked in her kindly eyes. And as she reached for her neck with her free arm and said: "It's okay, doc. Nothing compared to… You know.", his mind was made up. They were trusting eyes. So much like the ones he'd seen before. Eyes that trusted him. Eyes he could see every night in his nightmares; now judging him for his failure to save them. Eyes haunting his memories and accompanying him every single day.

"You're going to be fine." He promised, taking out as syringe filled with a dark brown fluid. "You're as strong a patient as I've ever had." He allowed some of the liquid to escape the syringe. "This may make you feel a little bit nauseous, but it'll help you get better."

She winced once more as he entered the syringe in her arm and the substance entered her bloodstream. But through it all she smiled miserably. _Brave young girl._

"Thanks doc." She said, lying back in an enormous, soft pillow.

"Bitte schön, Fraulein." He answered, packing up his gear.

The dose would indeed make her nauseous, he knew. But the diluted holy water inside the placebo would not kill her. It was far too weak. But perhaps it could buy down. Slow down the turn and give them the time to cut off the head oft he snake.

Whatever happened, he could not have another pair of those eyes staring at him at all times from the shadows of his mind. _He would not_.

"Hey Tammy." Robbie's voice brought the doctor back from the recesses of his mind and it's wandering memories. "Your phones is charged." He said holding the device close to her. "You want it?" He offered.

Her hand slapped it aside and continued to trail up his arm. And her voice was as lustful as any Van Hadeschant had ever heard.

"I'd rather have you, handsome." The teen with the purple and pink hair purred. An innocent giggle followed soon after.

By the excited yet embarrassed reaction this got from her boyfriend, the doctor couldn't but wager this was not her typical behavior. "Oh Robbie..." Her hand moved up to his chin. "I just want to devour you."

Possibly quite luckily for all, they were interrupted at that very moment. As Wendy and Mabel and the boy the doctor could only assume was Dipper, entered the room unceremoniously. Soon there were warm greetings tossed around and Tambry declared herself embarrassed that the twins had to fly all the way over just for her. Especially when she was feeling fine. The way she talked of the entire ordeal, you would believe she'd only had a terrible nightmare. Van Hadeschant guessed it to be nothing more than a defense mechanism. A vampire attack was not something taken lightly. It never was.

But at long last the injected solution kicked in.

"I'm not feeling too well." Tambry said, feeling her own forehead.

"That's normal." Van Hadeschant assured. "We should give her some room and some rest. We'll take turns in watching over her, yes? No objections this time Fraulein Corduroy?"

The redhead crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She said in a sassy tone, wailing the only way teens could.

"I'll… uh… I'll take first watch." Robbie replied gingerly. Hopefully. Clearly.

The doctor grabbed him by the shoulders in a stern yet friendly way and ushered him to the door."No. No, no." He said. "She needs rest, I say. And I fear, Casanova, that you would instead just tire her out."

"But…" The teen in the hoodie complained. "But..."

"Tut. Tut." The doctor countered, pushing him out, for his own good as much as hers. "You need to catch some more sleep too. Doctor's orders. Fraulein Wendy and I are well rested, we will draw first watch. Then the kids and then you and I again, alright?"

"Hey." The boy named Dipper protested as he too was being dragged out to the hall, just like his sister. "Not yet man, you owe us some answers?"

"Answers?" Van Hadeschant raised his brow. "Young man, I was not aware you had even asked questions. In any case. You have not slept since you came here, yes? And from what you were telling my patient just now, you've been spending all your time researching the vampires, yes? You should get some sleep, young Dipper. You and your sister both. You'll need it if the monstrosity is still out there."

"I want to know why you're here, doctor." Dipper challenged. "And I want to read some of those books you took from the library."

The boy had done his homework. Uncharacteristically, even after half a bottle of Jack Daniels, Van Hadeschant stumbled to find his words. Perhaps he needed a quick fixer-upper. The Northwest's had an extensive collection to satisfy his needs. "I'm not… I'm not hiding the books." Van Hadeschant said. "I just didn't know we had such clever and competent fighters coming to our aid." He complimented charmingly. "Tell you what young man, at the change of guard's we'll have a little chat, you and I. I'll share with you all I know. But no more before you get some shut-eye, yes?"

The young man, though not hostile in any way at all, clearly was not appeased by his answer. Yet help came from the most unexpected of sources.

"It's okay, Dipper." Wendy offered kindly. She too must've noticed the bags under the kids eyes.

The yawning Mabel would prove less problem in ushering to sleep, he wagered. Yet, strangely, at the simple suggestion of her words, the seemingly headstrong boy turned. But, in the far ends of his memories, the doctor understood. He too had been that age once.

"Alright." Dipper agreed begrudgingly. "But we'll have that talk." He wagged his finger.

"Of course." He had to smile.

"Can we, like, get you guys anything before we're off?" Mabel asked, rubbing her eyes.

"I wouldn't mind a drink." The answer came before he knew he spoke it.

"You look like you could use something to eat." Wendy intervened. "And I know you're a do as I say, not as I do kind of doctor. But now I'm ordering you to get something more than booze in your system."

"Jawohl." He agreed."Das auch."

As the half reluctant set of twins set out into the hallway, a completely reluctant Robbie followed them. At least for a few steps. Before long he turned and tried to walk past Wendy and Van Hadeschant. The doctor was most grateful for his years of keeping up his physique as he hunted down the filth on this world. It helped with blocking the teen's path.

"You can't stop me from sitting with my girlfriend, man." The boy argued, though skinny as he was, Van Hadeschant probably could.

Instead he grabbed him by the shoulders, clearly to the dismay of the lad.

"There will be time later, Junge." He promised.

"I don't like being touched." Robbie complained, clearly feeling uncomfortable at his touch.

"That's not what I saw when I walked into the room." The doctor joked. When the blush crept on the boy's face, he knew he'd won. "Rest now Robbie. She'll need you later, okay? You must be there when she needs you the most. Not when she wants you the most."

"Just go take a nap, Robbie…" Wendy added. "Please, dude?"

Without a word, and slumping as he did so, the boy tugged himself free from the doctor's grasp and turned down the hallway. Following the twins at a snail's pace.

"Und Fraulein Mabel!" The doc shouted after them. "No letting anyone in, alright? As of now, people we know and people we don't know are not coming in until sunrise. None, you hear?!"

"What about Claude?" Wendy asked, turning to face him.

"Oh, right..." Van Hadeschant said, having forgotten. "Well, he seemed like a tough man. And we can't risk it. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Man..." She said turning away from him and walking into the room to her friend. "I'm sure they'll all be fine. We skewered that lady in red. Mark my words, nothing bad whatsoever is going to happen tonight."

* * *

Edward quite clumsily closed the door behind him. Not an easy feat when simultaneously holding a mop and a full bucket of water. But then again, he didn't have to worry about the noise as he entered the projection booth. There was no one in the cinema but him, he told himself.  
He'd been telling it to himself time and again for the last hour now.

Beyond the projector's bright light, the small room wasn't all that well lit. Outward, there was only the screen, surrounded by darkness. The movie playing, _going away again from the past and present_ , was a pleasant enough one. But it did little to relieve his sense of anxiety and dread, steadily building.

On screen doctor Bennett Black was reading a flyer with a growing twinkle in his eyes. Edward had seen the scene over a dozen times already. The man's hopeful expression wasn't nearly as infectious as it once was.

"This is it! This is the answer!" The white-haired old cook screamed fanatically as Edward plunged the mop into the bucket, the water in it overspilling. "It says here that a bolt of lightning is going to strike the clock tower at precisely 10:04 p.m. next Sunday night!"

Edward could almost say the lines with him, word for word. He ran them over in his head as he focused at his work, starting near the comfortable couch in the middle of the booth.

"If..." The doc searched and Edward mumbled along. "If we could somehow harness this lightning… channel it into the flux capacitor..."

Something caught Edward's eye. A shadow that shouldn't have been there, glimpsed for only a split second. His grip on the mop's handle tightened. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. All the while he tried to reassure himself. It was probably nothing, right? And even if it hadn't been his imagination, there was a perfectly good explanation. Perhaps some dust had floated in front of the projector, causing the shadow on the screen.

Some very feminine dust…

"It just might work." The doc proclaimed as Edward kept his eyes fixated on the screen. His heart seemed to have stopped moving in anticipation. "Next Sunday night, you are going away again from the past and present!"

Edward didn't hear the rest of the movie. Despite himself he craned his head forward, peering extensively at the screen. The noise faded. He saw the shapes and colors on the screen, but they didn't register as he scanned for the source of his unsettling experience.

It would have been a cliche if a sudden monster popped out. Like some cheap jump-scare. Instead, he felt himself nailed to the floor. Frozen. His mouth dry and quivering as suddenly, where there had been nothing, a full fledged shadow, the shape of the impossibly beautiful kind of woman that visited his dreams oh so often, claimed most of the screen. He wanted to scream. But somewhere between his lungs and his mouth, his voice had taken a wrong turn. All he could do was gasp. And even that only with the utmost difficulty.

A multitude of emotions and thoughts crept through his teenage brain, all at once. He felt an undeniable arousal as he saw the ample figure dance suggestively on the screen. Her hands moving from her hair, down to her neck… And down… down… down… He felt a longing. And a sense of pride, feeling that he'd been chosen. Him, no one else. For whatever this was. A feeling he'd not experienced often in his short life.

But beneath it all lay an omnipresent sense of fear. He remembered, for some reason, the trip he'd made with his parents to the Grand Canyon, all those years ago. It flashed into his mind as the shadow's palms pressed against the screen; calling out for him. Longing in turn for him.

Ten years ago. He'd stood on the cliff of that great abyss. And he'd looked out to the world beyond. Beautiful. It had been an absolutely stunning sight, sure to leave an impression on him for the rest of his life. But it was also so very deep. So enormously vast and empty. It was impossible to stand so close and not fear falling in; swallowed by the emptiness and lost for all time. To witness that beauty had been to tremble in awe and fright.

The palms of her hands pressed. Even only in shadow he could see the outlines of her large fingers arc. Her hands moved down, her nails plunging into the screen, ripping and tearing it along the way. And in accordance, on the glass window in front of him, protecting him from the darkness outside, scratch-marks appeared.

Ten of them. And their pattern… One for each finger.

He finally found his voice. Somewhat. As he stumbled backwards towards the door and dropped the mop, an indiscernible grunt escaped him. His wide eyes remained focused on the glass and the darkness and the screen beyond. The female shadow's movements were less seductive now. More animalistic. Ferocious… As she clawed to get him. To get into the booth. Marks upon marks dug deeper and deeper into the glass. Blindly, he found the doorknob behind his back and twisted it. He turned and bolted as soon as he could.

Sickness. He felt sick to his bones as he struggled out into the hall. He had to get to the main room. Just had to. Around him the lights were flickering on and off. But he couldn't stop to think about it. Escape. Now! He ignored the rising wind inside the building, calling to him. He had to block it out as he moved through the second hall. The doorways leading to the other showing rooms were without lights as well. Hiding whatever horrors he could imagine. Shadows clad in darkness.

Crying like a babe and stumbling along the way he made his way into the main hall. He whimpered as soon as he could see the lights flickering on and off here too. And beyond the food and drink stand, at the only exit nearby, he saw a shape. Vague and distorted. But more clear and real than her shadow had been before. Within the reflection of the glass door, he could see her every time the light flickered off. Fair and dangerous. Lustful and hungering. Her eyes, dead but for the desire in them, and her devious smile said it all.

There was no escape. No way out.

He screamed. A full-fledged scream this time. And turned on his heels, dashing for the bathroom stalls. He had no real plan to flee the apparition. Yet his body told him to run. Run for his life.

The white bathrooms were still brightly lit, at least. The only ones in the building it seemed. He passed the wall-length mirror on his left and rushed over the white tiles into one of the red-doored stalls. Slamming the door behind him and feebly locking the door, he crawled onto the toilet. His legs raised high. His knees kissed his chin as he held them in pure dread. The frog in his throat relentless. The tears flowed freely. The dreadful anticipation, waiting for the boys' bathroom door to open, and hearing those slow footsteps approach, stall after stall, was more than he could bare.

"Please no..." He begged, again and again, to the silence.

Praying, as nerve-wrecking as it was, that it wouldn't leave.

He didn't want it to end. Not like this.

There came no sound of an opening door. No footsteps echoing on the white tiles of the bathroom. No dark humming or an eerie version of a children's carol.

Whatever it was, out there… It didn't need it.

What did come was much, much worse. _Realization_. There was no escape. She was waiting for him already, just beyond the door. And what was worse… He knew, absolutely knew down to the deepest of his core, that he could not refuse her. He felt her pull. Her fingers in his mind.  
She had too much power. Too much control. He could not disobey.

Gingerly, and struggling to fight back, he got up and off from the toilet. He hand slowly stretched out. Even as it reached for the know and turned it, releasing the lock, it shook. And as the door swung open, it revealed the great long mirror and a reflection of his own, puny, petrified self.

He bit his lower lip and whimpered as he shuffled closer to the mirror. He didn't want to. But he had to.

No escape. No escape.

He stood right in front of the mirror now. Quivering.

It wasn't surprise, nor shock, that overcame him as the image in front of him started to change. Rather despair. The hair growing, turning red. His acne disappearing. His features turning fair and voluptuous in the mirror's image. And his uniform now turned into a Victorian dress of gold and red. A dress that fit the woman in the mirror oh so well. For one moment, and one moment alone, his eyes darted down to his own body. They found him still himself. But he was not in the mirror. Even if he could feel her outside of it.

Her eyes weren't comforting. They promised. Yet did not promise anything good as they beckoned him. And as she reached out for him, her hands inching closer to the wall of the mirror, her smile once more revealed itself. And this time, he could see it for what it was.  
Pearl white teeth. No braces, all teeth. And those fangs... _Her fangs_ … They stood out against her shapely, red lips.

She was beautiful, he told himself. Beyond beautiful. And she wanted him. All of him.

Beautiful. And frightening.

Her hands reached the wall. And with seemingly no effort, they went through it. And more and more of her followed. Her elbows, Her head. Her shoulders. Her chest. Her waist.

Her arms coiled around him. Not maliciously. Yet he shivered at their touch. Theys stroked his back and rummaged through his hair.

He powerless to throw her off. Powerless to stop what would come next.

"Wait..." He managed to utter, completely frozen.

Her hands didn't wait. Instead, they tugged his head aside slightly, revealing his bare neck to her.

His muscles cramped up. His heart, up until now seemingly stopped dead in it's tracks, jumped into overdrive. And yet, he could not make his body do what he wanted.

He tried to find her look. But she was focused on his neck now. Her teeth… fangs… parted slightly. Her strong tongue licked them in anticipation as she lowered her mouth in what seemed like aeons.

The tension in his body rose. It had to be coming close to a breaking point. It had to.

But it was futile, he knew.

When he felt the bite, the teeth pricking deep into his neck and puncturing his artery, for a moment his entire body tensed up.

"Don't!" Edward managed in a weak voice which betrayed his utmost malcontent and devastating dread. It was one last moment of being himself.

Before all strength left his body. And he could feel all that had ever been him being sucked away; drained mentally kicking and screaming into the never-ending, overwhelming nothingness.

* * *

Dipper found himself in strange yet familiar surroundings, without a clear recollection of how he got there in the first place. He tried to focus on what was around him, but it proved argues work. He felt older than he was, somehow. And therefore he was quite pleased with the soft, one person sofa, green and silver, that he occupied, seated upright. He wasn't sure if he could get up. But he didn't even feel like trying either. It might wrinkle black suit he was wearing, in any case. And next to him was a little trail on wheels, with an ornament on it. What it was, he couldn't discern. It looked like a pyramid with a ball on top.

His wasn't the only sofa in the room, though. Two similar ones stood in a ninety-degrees turn in regards to his. The closest not a yard away from him. The angle allowing them to face almost the same direction, if there had been a coffee table, it might have passed for a normal salon setting. But there was nothing normal about this place. The other sofa's were flanked by two metal, standing lamps. Simple and elegant in design. And behind the seats was a white statue, Greek or Roman style, of a beautiful woman shielding her nudity. Tambry occupied the sofa furthest off to him, in a black, female suit. She eyed him expectantly. Dotingly, even.

But they weren't the only ones in the square room, cornered off by red curtains. By a pole a mere few yards away across the zigzag-patterned floor in dark red and lighter red, a smaller figure stood. It was buzzing like a fly, but built like a man. Albeit a small one. His back was faced to dipper and he held his shoulders and sides, twitching as the buzzing continued.

The twitching figure caught his attention once more. Perhaps after a glance from Tambry. Or was it only a hint of a glance? In any case, the figure turned and produced a red cone hat from somewhere. Dipper recognized him now. The grey beard and moustache… The eyes slightly off… Even if he was dressed in a sharp, tailored, red suit,... Schmebulock the gnome would always be Schmebulock the gnome.

As the gnome turned he clapped his hands and said "Let's rock." Before holding the vertical metal bar of the lamp by his side. But there was something off about his voice. And not just the fact that he was saying something different than 'Schmebulock' for once. It ran deeper. Into the very pronunciation of the used syllables. In rather the same way, something, was off about his movements too. Slowy and… wrongly… The gnome walked towards the empty sofa and hopped in.

Dipper looked over to Tambry, for support. This was weird, right? She had to think this was weird too. She just kept looking at him and tapped her nose knowingly. And then… A smile.

He didn't understand.

The sharply dressed Schmebulock rubbed his hands together as the shadow of a triangle flew past them, either on or behind the red curtains. Which one it was, Dipper could not tell.

"I've got good news." The gnome said, grabbing the seat around him and showing the greatest expression of content Dipper had ever seen. The gnome pointed at him "That gum you like is going to come back in style."

Dipper remained silent. No doubt a puzzled look on his face. His eyes darted to Tambry once more.

The gnome seemed to notice. "She's my cousin." He said in that awful, distorted voice. "But doesn't she look almost exactly like Tambry?"

"But it…" He blinked in confusion. "It is Tambry." Dipper replied. He turned his attention back to her. "Are you Tambry?"

"I feel like I know her." The woman that looked like Tambry spoke kindly, but her voice as distorted as Schmebulock's. "But sometimes…" She continued, struggling to go on. "My arms…" She closed her eyes in dismay and craned her head back. "Bend back." She finished before looking and smiling at the pines boy again

Schmebulock turned from her back to him and gave his next words as second's thought. "She is filled with secrets." And suddenly he seemed distracted, thinking of something unknown to the rest of them, lost in his own memories. "Where we're from, the birds sing a pretty song." He added eventually, after which again he trailed off in his own thoughts. He seemed to grow restless. "And there is always music in the air."

Dipper watched the gnome bob and swing his head to the tune even before it was there. But it came on and it came on strong. A fresh tune. It was like the fusion between a jazz balad and a lullaby song. Snapping of fingers started it off, soon joined by a steady bass of a plucking snare instrument Dipper could not quite define. But soon the sound was overshadowed, pushed into mere background, by the full swing of the emerging saxophone and it's uplifting voice.

Enough to make anyone tap their feet or snap their fingers to the rhythm under normal circumstances. Yet Dipper did not feel inclined, too entranced at the swinging torso of the tiny man before him. Besides, his hands lying on the armrests were as if bound. All his fingers could do was tighten ever so slightly. For all intents and purposes, he was cloistered to the chair. As the gnome rose from his seat and left it, his movements became more dance-like. And lightning, without thunder, flashed in the red room as the melody completely took over.

The gnome moved further and further away from them, led by the music which made him swing and dance. A dance that could only be for himself. Bereft of grandeur and talent, but catchy and confident. The gnome snapped his fingers along the beat as it carried him. All the while, the flashing light grew more and more intense.

Tambry rose from her seat now, never taking her eyes off Dipper. The taller girl moved in on him. Her hips not quite swaying to the music. But perhaps hinting they might. When next to his seat, she took her time and bent over, bridging the gap between them. Dipper became aware of his neck craning up to meet her. And her fingertips of her left hand found his neck. Their faces got closer and closer. Until finally their lips met. There was no time to think about things. About where he was or what was going on. No time to contemplate if what he was doing was alright.

And then she broke it off, smiling. She whispered into his ear. Once again in her broken, off voice.

"I'll see you again in 25 years." The girl said.

He stared at her, confused as ever.

"Meanwhile." The girl added, as if what she did next were an explanation.

She placed her left hand by her right shoulder, horizontally. And her right hand, behind it, vertically. It looked liked a small statue or an award. Or possibly; a very docile flame.

She was gone the next thing she knew. But something else caught his attention. From across the room the still dancing Schmebulock called out 'Doppelganger'. Repeatedly. His voice enough to cut through the funky tune.

And Dipper could see him; The Doppelganger. Staring half from behind one of the red curtains. Only half of him was visible. Half a body, dressed like he was. One arm that clung to the curtain. Half a face, oh so familiar. Half a devious smile. And only one eye. And that one eye was so recognizable. It wasn't Dipper staring back at himself from behind the curtain. It was, as Mabel had dubbed him, Bipper.

Under the flashing light, Bipper laughed. His laugh too susceptible to the speech-impairment the rest of the people around him seemed to suffer.

"We are mirrors." The unholy demon said, suddenly turning serious. Sad even. "But the light does not catch us."

Dipper wanted to rise from his chair. To fight or flight from the monster only yards away. To do something. Anything other than having to undergo all of this. In wooden movements, however, and much to Dipper's dismay, Bipper let go of the curtain and walked through. The smile on his face that of either a psychopath or a predator. Nothing good, that much was certain.

The Demon stopped clearly within the Pines' boy's personal space. Dipper could see his own face smiling back at him so horribly only half an inch from his own nose. This close, Dipper could see the demon inhabiting his boy was still missing an eye. One was nothing but reflective glass, showing Dipper his innermost self. Like most people in the world, he wasn't completely glad with what he saw in there. And Bipper was laughing. Laughing like a madman now, right in his face. His already demonic voice now a thousandfold as unnerving as it suffered from the same distortion as the others. Dipper couldn't do anything but watch. He couldn't even turn away or scream. Only feel the cold sweat running down his neck.

"V _bv vsg hgvvn mzsg ivgkzsx hrsg lg viln hr vivsg!"_ Bipper shouted right in front of him, in a brief respite from his horrid laughter.  
His laughing continued, but he moved out of the way despite it all, cackling to himself. It was hardly a respite, however. As Dipper could now again see the sofa's. Or at least, could see where the sofa's had been. They'd been repaired with lighter, more modern seats. Two of them, completely red. And on one of them, Tambry sat with her hands in the same position as when she'd disappeared. Her eyes were grey. Blind.

"Meanwhile." Her distorted voice carried as the music died.

But nor her expression, nor her voice was doting this time. Instead: rather angry. Violent. Monstrous.

And indeed, the shrieking followed soon after. Her mouth open like a dreadful cavern. The lights grew dimmer, the flashes of light that broke it stronger. Her teeth were bare now. Sharp teeth. Fangs. And her screaming… _Oh, her screaming_. A fury so primal Dipper could not even comprehend it. Like an animal she crawled over the seats. Out of the seats. She moved to him in shocking movement. And her face, so close now, unavoidable…

It flashed along with the lights, turning into that of Schmebulock for one instant.

" _Hxsnvyfolxp_!" It screamed.

And finally, Dipper too screamed. Screamed as he shot upright, jumping from his cushions and his covers, bathing in sweat and surrounded by the dark of the room he recognized, after a few seconds, as the room he'd gone to sleep in. Finally he realized he was seated on the two person couch in one of the many guest bedrooms of the Northwest household. And comforting though that thought was, he couldn't help but scan his surroundings diligently. For any sign of Bill, a vampire or a swinging homunculus. His heavy, rapid breathing paired with his shifty eyes and his tight grip on the blankets would have betrayed his distress to anyone. But Mabel didn't even have need for that. As she lay in the bed, half asleep still, one of her eyes opened and peered at him through the darkness.

"Dancing midget dream again?" She mumbled, nudging herself more into a warm crevice of softness made from blanket and pillows.

He could have gotten a bed as well. There were plenty of rooms, even in this smaller Northwest abode. Luxurious rooms with luxurious, grandiose beds like the one Mabel currently occupied. But he hadn't wanted to sleep anywhere else. Not with all that was at stake. No matter what Wendy believed, he was not certain this ordeal was over, just yet.

"Yeah…" Dipper breathed, feeling the blood rush to his face. "But it was different this time."

"Mhm?" Mabel asked shutting her eyes. Already well on her way back to dreams Dipper would envy if they weren't so damn pink.

"It was Schmebulock… And Bipper… And Tambry…"

"Mhm."

"Mabel…" He realized it as the words formed in his mouth. "I think we need to check out the gnomes tomorrow."

"Whatever you say bro-bro." His twin yawned.

"I think it's important. "He said, knowing that by now he was talking only to himself.

Still shaken, he discarded the blankets that had been offering meagre protection to anything but the cold. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep tonight. No way he wanted to either. What he wanted now, for some reason, was a damn fine cup of coffee and a slice of cherry pie.

* * *

Pacifica Northwest faced the darkness of the hallway. The three branched candelabra in her hand her near only protection. Near, as the dark blue fleece blanket covering her shoulders and draped over her light blue nightgown offered some comfort at least.

The source of light had been close by when she'd awoken by the soft sound. It always was nowadays. She was too old for a night-light by far. And yet… She wasn't yet accustomed to the new Northwest manor. Not by a long shot. Oh, it was fancy enough. Pretty enough. Big enough. But when night fell and the shadows set in, all that magnificence turned sour. Even after all these months. And the candles had been very comforting. And classy to boot.

But now she had to investigate what it had been that had awoken her. A sound, she recalled. A soft sound. Perhaps a cough? Or the scraping of a chair. It had been faint. Whatever it had been.

Down the dark hallway, in the far distance, one of the doors was open. She could tell by the light omitting from it. One of the guest rooms. And the light inside danced. Candle-light, like hers, no mistake about it.

She made her way over, gliding through the hallway. The shadows dancing just out of the candelabra's reach instilled a dread she would not readily admit. Not even to herself. Stubbornly, and quite paradoxically, it's subconscious influence and her equal subconscious resistance was why she didn't just flick on the lights in the first place but instead pushed herself through with fire as her companion.

The room's door wasn't completely open. Rather a crack allowed the dancing light to escape. With her free hand she pushed it open slowly. As it creaked open far too loudly for her liking, revealing more and more of the room, she felt her breath stalk in her lungs.

But there was no dreadful reveal. Indeed, all she saw in the otherwise abandoned room was Dipper in a two-person chesterfield wearing a plain white t-shirt and his shorts. As much in his bedtime attire as she was. He looked up from the book he had on his lap, half-eaten pencil in his mouth and a surprised look illuminated by the lit candle-holder on the coffee-table in front of him. She could see two more books on it's surface. One rather thin, the other thicker.

"Hey." She said, readjusting the fleece blanket draped over her shoulders.

He beckoned her silence and nudged for the door across the hall. "Mabel's asleep." He whispered, beckoning her in. She obliged. After all, it was her house. She could go anywhere she damn well pleased.

She closed the door behind her, placed her candles next to his and sat herself down. For a second before they started talking, her eyes glanced his cheek. The mark was gone. That was good. She didn't want to bring it up again either. And if she knew him even marginally, neither would he.

He didn't disappoint.

"I couldn't sleep." He said, closing the book on his lap and removing the pencil from his mouth. "I went to check up on Wendy and the doctor. They are on guard. But they told me to get some more rest. That we'd need two people to watch over Tambry, to make sure one wouldn't fall asleep."

She matched his soft voice, as not to wake Mabel. "Well, you woke me." She said plainly. "I guess we're with two now… How is she?" She added the last part, a little too late for her own taste.

"Well enough, I think." Dipper answered. "Hard to say though… She's been through a lot. … Sorry for waking you."

"We've all been through a lot." She fidgeted with her fingers. "Why are you up?" She whispered. She gestured for the book. "What's that?" She followed up her own question.

Silent as it was, Dipper had to chuckle. "If I told you it was a journal, would you be surprised."

"Hah." She replied. "With you? Of course not."

"A dream journal." He explained further, his fingers trailing over the bland cover. "I've been having recurring nightmares ever since summer." He went on, explaining both her questions at once. "It's not that bad." He added, seeing her expression. "It's just… once in a while, you know?"

"Bill?"

"Yeah."

She let his answer hang in the air for a while before she asked him. "And the journal?"

"Grunkle Ford has a metal plate in his head. But it's not the only way he prepared for Bill. He's trained himself to be as strong and powerful as he can be in the mindscape. A dream journal helps accomplish that. And beside that, it helps you gain control over your dreams, and so too your nightmares."

His explanation hadn't made things much clearer. In fact, her whispers betrayed her confusion. "But… Bill's gone. You know that."

"Yeah." The boy nodded, smiling. "Yeah." He repeated, putting the book with the others on the coffee table. "I know that. " He agreed, looking her in the eye. "I know he's not coming back."

"Do you Dipper?" She asked.

For one moment his eyes darted. But his gaze returned, under dancing of the candle-light. "I do." He said. "I _know_ it, but… I _know_ it the same way you _know_ your family's sins are not your own." Even in hushed tones he found a way to stress the word giving it the weight of a crashing anvil. "Knowing it… It doesn't solve it, does it? It doesn't make it feel you need to do any less."

She turned away from him, but nodded. Now he made sense.

She tried to break the ice after a while of silence. Not necessarily a bad silence, but silence none the less. "Jeez Dipper..." She started. "So much angst? Looks like we really are teenagers now."

He smiled, and seemingly had to keep himself from laughing loudly. He had to be tired. Despite everything. "Technically teenagers." He agreed eventually.

"And what are these others?" She asked, deciding to keep the roll going as she bent over two pick up the two other books. The thin one was as new as could be. The thicker one seemed much more old.

Dipper picked the thinnest book from her grasp and gave her a look. "Promise not to laugh?" He asked.

She seemed to consider this. "Mhm… Nope." She answered eventually, truthfully. "But you are still going to show me what's in that book, Dipper."

He sighed. But it was a sigh that said it all: he wasn't putting up much of a fight.

"Another journal." He said with a mixture of shame and pride as he opened the book.

She craned her neck over his shoulder to see better. Inside she could see pictures of all manner of creatures and beings native to Gravity Falls as he flipped through the pages. From gnomes to zombies, to the Lilliputians and even to a weird fat, bald man in a jumpsuit and glasses, apparently named 'Blendin Blandin'.

She didn't catch much from the notes accompanying the pictures. Nor the other strange symbols Dipper had put in there. She'd honestly never really cared much for Dipper's journals herself. They had come in handy when performing the exorcism on the old Northwest mansion, but aside from that.

But even with all that said and done, she was impressed. She took the journal from his hands and tore through the pages on her own. Scanning them quickly.

"I started by penning down what I remembered from Grunkle Ford's work. Then added what I remembered." Dipper explained as she turned page after page and saw creatures and objects fly by. "Then I recalled some things like the Lilliputians had been missing. So I put them in there too. And then finally…"

She arrived at the final page… The beast was only half drawn. Yet she could recognize it. A third lion, a third eagle and a third scorpion. And one hundred percent freshmaker. She didn't have to read 'Mintycore' to recall the monster.

"You could work on your drawing." She said. "It's that I know the shape of the beast, but it doesn't quite resemble what it was." She added, bending over to take the pencil he'd placed on the table. She could tell he watched her carefully, from the corners of her eyes. But he allowed her to etch the drawing. To add shades and texture. More expression on the demonic face. To elongate the tail. It still needed more work, she ventured, biting the pencil in thought. But it already looked better.

"Awesome." Dipper acknowledged, nodding. "How did you..."

"I'm a Northwest…" She answered, with some pride. "Excellence is our business."

"I thought it was lying through your teeth." He mocked, obviously mocked.

She tilted her head and took the jape in stride. "We do that with excellence too." She replied. "Truth is..." She answered, putting down his journal. "One of my many extracurricular activities has been art." She leaned back in the sofa, the thicker journal remaining on her lap. She crossed her arms and stared at him knowingly as he gazed back at her with what she could only assume was newfound appreciation. "You're not bad, Dipper." She teased. "But you lack a certain finesse, an eye for detail."

"You really made it look like the Mintycore." He admitted, gratefully.

"Well I remember how it crashed my friend Liana's birthday party." She said, remembering the entire debacle. "Wendy couldn't have picked a worse place and time to hunt it down."

"She was lucky, on the other hand, to have all that diet coke lying around."

She waved it off. Sure, he had a point. But she felt like she had hers too. And she wasn't about to get in an argument. Not this late at night.

"And this last book?" She asked, holding up the thickest, oldest of them all.

"When I went to try and take over from Wendy and your doctor, he sent me off with that." Dipper said, pointing at the black tome. "It's one of the books he's taken from the library. A book on the occult. On vampires. I was going to read it when it was our time to watch over Tambry."

Pacifica turned it over. The gold letters shone in the flickering of the candles. Seemingly still liquid as it shone out from the black leather. 'Memory of a shadow'. It said.

"Not sure it will be useful." Dipper added. "But I figured, might as well."

And well, that settled it, didn't it? Pacifica tugged the fleece blanket close and rose. "Come on Dipper..." She ordered. Let's get you to reading that book."

* * *

He knew the memory by heart now. He'd lived it thousands upon thousands of times. As he could recall the faces of the men who rode with him. Quincey, John, Jonathan and Arthur. Their expressions made of pure focus and grievances to hard for men their ages. They had hard faces for hard men, even though they were still strapping men in the prime of their lives. Each and every one of them. Even back then Van Hadeschant had been their senior. Their tutor and responsible for them. He'd known them laughing. He'd known their dreams and hopes. But those did not matter now.

The air around them was thick and stung the eyes. Their horses' stampede only adding to the trail of dust left in the caravan's wake. A dozen riders and a carriage armed by three men, not a quarter of a mile ahead now, and losing ground as the carriage rocked and hobbled over the rocky path in it's desperate climb to the lonely castle atop the dead mountain. Their long brown coats flapped in the wind. Not even the collection of silver daggers, wooden stakes, holy oils and water were enough to pin them down to their bodies in the face of their awesome speed.

Next to him, on both sides, Arthur and John their best shots, fired their rifles from horseback. But good as they were; They hadn't hit anyone back then. And they didn't do it now. The path… The distance… The cloud of sand… And the orange light of the sun setting behind the ridges far ahead, shining in their eyes, made it nigh on impossible.

His younger self spurred his horse. A brown, proud creature. He was the first of their group. But followed closely, as brothers in arms were wont to do. And step by step, they closed the gap between the monster, his servants and the inferior mongrels they rode. But the looming black castle, with it's ever expanding shadow in the setting sun, grew larger and larger as well.

At the beginning of the last turn of the rocky pass, the five riders fell upon in their foes, who outnumbered them three to one. But Van Hadeschant and his men had been better armed. Well trained. And they fought for a cause worth fighting for. A cause held hostage by the monster hiding in it's coffin where it waited for the dark of night to arise. A wish that would be granted to it soon. As the sun grew faint and small, being eaten by the tops of the other mountains.

John and Arthur hit a fair amount of the vampire's servants. And those they didn't, their shots kept busy from stopping the advance of Johnathan, Quincey and himself.

They prepared themselves, in the final stretch, to leap atop the moving carriage, to force the driver to stop by any means necessary and deny the vampire access to it's home where it would be nigh-unstoppable. Backed up by the rifle-men, as one, John, Arthur and himself moved into position.

But as his friends lept and boarded the carriage, a sight caught him of guard.

Mina. Terrified, infected Mina. Her pleading eyes. Her arm outreached. Half her voloptuous body hanging from the door of the carriage, pleading him for help. He aborted his jump and spurred his horse to move sideways from the carriage as his friends fought atop it like lions.

As he reached for her hand, to pull the crying fair woman to him, someone fell from atop of the coach. He'd never torn his eyes from her. And like every night, he wished he had. Watching Quincey, already stabbed in his throat, get trampled underneath the horses was not a memory he wanted in his nightmares. But he owed it to the man. That, at the very least. But there hadn't been time to think. And in many ways, even to this day, that was the worst part of all.

From the depth of the wagon, hidden in pitch black, the monster flashed in sight. It's arms grabbing the poor girl by her dress, just out of reach of the faint sunlight, drawing her into the dark with him. Her high-pitched scream still brought him to tears to this day.

As John and Arhur finished off the stragglers, Van Hadeschant was just in time to see Johnathan descend on the driver and throw him unto the road. Claiming the reigns, the young man forced the horses to a halt.

But too late. They were less than a hundred yards away from the castle built on the cliff-side of the mountain, overhanging the flowing river below. They'd been seconds to late. But those seconds might as well have been lifetimes. They might as well have been eternity.

As the remaining men formed up, Johnathan rose from his seat, his silver dagger in hand. They all reached for their appropriate weaponry as they surrounded the beast with the strength of twenty men.

And as the last light disappeared behind the mountains, the wagon splintered as the dark lord rose from it like a large shadow. The horses took the freight to their hearts, screaming and rearing on their hind legs. Only Johnathan, brave Johnathan, was not hindered. And as the monster's pale face and undead eyes fell upon him, the boy did not waver. The silver dagger slashed, cutting the beasts throat.

If it could have shrieked, Van Hadeschant imagined it would have been a most horrible sound.

And then with one backhand, as it's other reached for the gash gushing red, the monster knocked it's assailant into the air.

John and Arthur, gaining control over their horses, fired shots after shots at their enemy. The silver bullets doing their work as the beast shrunk back into it's black cape a bit further with each blast.

Van Hadeschant himself was less fortunate as his horse topled over. Somehow he managed not to get fully squashed by the large equine. But his leg did suffer, trapped between the squirming, thrashing horse and the hard bedrock below.

As he managed to free himself and his throbbing leg, he heard the shots die out. But not for the reason he'd hoped. One glance was enough. Their foe, low and cunning as it was, hid it's white face covered in red behind the shape of that wonderful woman. His undead eyes filled with passion, lust, excitement and satisfaction. It dared them to fire. It dared them to try.

But the men could not.

Struggling to his good leg, Van Hadeschant could hear Mina beg. For the monstrosity to end it all. For his comrades to pull their triggers. For them to save her. She begged for everything. For anything but this limbo. In that moment of utter panic and dread, she was as far removed from the woman he'd first met that it hurt his heart.

Through moving shadows, the wounded vampire glided from the coach, never taking it's eye off Van Hadeschant and his allies. John and Arthur descended their horses, likewise never lowering their arms. And in the distance Johnathan too crawled back up, grunting and complaining. Slowly, and for the doctor and his bum leg even more slowly than the others, they followed the creature as it backed up to it's castle.

Through a dark enchantment of sorts, the heavy wooden doors opened behind it. The utter blackness it opened up to had a presence of it's own. Or rather, had a presence of the monster before them. As if it were an extension. And step by step, they truly became one as he disappeared in it fully. All the while his dead eyes taunting them like a spider inviting the flies to join him in the web.

John and Arthur were the first to enter, only a few paces in front of Johnathan and himself. Van Hadeschant leaned on his friend as he leaned on him. The young lad still had his silver dagger out. Van Hadeschant produced a golden cross from an inner pocket in his coat himself as they stumbled behind their comrades and the darkness swallowed them whole.

Unlike the memory carved into his brain, however. Van Hadeschant now truly found himself alone in the darkness. Where his friends had gone to, he could not tell. He felt cold. Frightened even, he had to admit.

The doctor tried to raise his cross in defense, but found that he no longer had it on him. And as he raised his empty hand, he noticed the wrinkles on them too. _Old_. He was old now. Old and weak and spent.

"How you hold to your memories." A beautiful yet terrifying voice broke through the nothingness. It almost sang. A marvelous song of blood and mayhem. "How you cling to the past." It mocked.

He turned and turned and turned again. Frantically he searched the pitch-black around him. The woman's voice had to come from somewhere. In fact, it seemed to come from everywhere. His eyes peered and the sweat ran from his forehead and into his neck.

"I know you now." The voice went on, relentless, dripping like honey so sweet it would allow you to drown in it. "I understand the power of memories… Like you do… _Abraham_."

"Who are you?!" He shouted. "What are you?! Where are you?!"

He turned and came to face with the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. Perfect in every single way. Her skin, pale but fair. Her nose small and cute. Her lips as red as her hair and her eyes and victorian dress matching too. Her expression passionate. Compassionate, even. And yet… the perfection itself, though undeniably radiant, was off putting in it's own way. Something not visible hidden underneath the outer layer. Like a storm hiding beneath calm waters. She was too perfect… Too good to be true. And therein she frightened him.

He couldn't resist as her soft hand found his cheek. The tops of her fingers trailed his five o'clock shadow sensually, accentuated by her deep short inhale which caused her bosom, to rise. He felt it press against his chest. She longed for something. But he wasn't certain what for.

The red woman's lips found their way to his neck. Her breath was warm. But something in the back of his head screamed at his petrified body. Screamed that it was a trap. And yet, as he heard her smell him, he did nothing to stop her. Her cheek brushed against his as her second hand found his chest. And her lips came to par with his ear.

"I will have her." The woman whispered.

"What?" The doctor managed, taken by surprise.

Her hands cupped his cheekbones and she brought her face in front of his. Her eyes were filled with lust and hatred.

"I will have them all." The woman vowed, her sharp teeth showing in a devious smile.

Van Hadeschant didn't awake with a start. He hardly ever did. Instead dream and reality clashed in a long and argues battle neither party could really be found to have the energy for. Like two stoners arguing to see what's on television, but first having to reach over for the remote. And through that slow lens, the red woman's face changed. Her extremely fair face grew far less stunning. But far less terrifying as well. And slowly the sounds it was making became understandable.

She was asking him to wake up.

His mouth was dry. As his eyes glided from the girl in front of him to the bottle of vintage red wine on the little table next to him, only filled for a quarter, he knew the reason this was so. A low, dismayed grunt rumbled from the very bottom of his chest. He rubbed his eyes and forced the world to come into focus. He was seated upright, he realized now. In a soft sofa for one.

"You fell asleep, dude." Fraulein Corduroy said, her hand still on his shoulder. "I think it's about time we change shifts."

His eyes itched and his head hurt. The world spun. His muscles were cramped at the intensity of the chase. All those years ago. And just now. Like a phantom pain come to haunt him. He wiped the hardened drool from the corner of his lips.

Dutifully, his eyes fell to the girl in the bed.

"She's resting." The redhead said, catching his gaze.

'Or pretending to.' The thought flashed in his mind darkly. He smiled warmly. "Yes." He agreed.

He realized they were talking in a silent tone as not to disturb her. The redhead was tired too. He saw that now. Unlike _Her_ face had been. Unlike _her_ , they had to rest. He struggled to rise from his soft chair. The tooth of time gripping in his lower back. He felt it creak as he drew himself to his full height.

"You know where the kids are?" He asked, he smacked his lips excessively afterword, trying to get rid of the foul sensation in his mouth.

A knock on the door made them both turn around. Before they could even say 'Enter', it swung open carefully, revealing the lady of the house and Dipper, lit by the candle light of their own candelabras.

Fortunate, as Wendy and he had lit candles of their own to give them some light and yet allow Tambry to rest.

"Wenn man vom Teufel spricht, ..." The doctor breathed. He followed it up by a little cough.

"We came to take over." Pacifica whispered.

"Mabel?" Wendy asked.

"Let her take the next shift , and sleep for now." Her brother answered. "If she takes last shift she can prepare her patented Mabel juice. It's disgusting, but it'll wake you straight up."

"I haven't had plastic dinosaur toys in years, though." Pacifica objected. "She won't find any lying around here."

"I bet she'll make due." Dipper replied matter-of-factly.

Either this entire town was insane, or he didn't master the English language as well as he thought he did, or he was more in need of a good night's sleep than he'd realized. Whichever it was, he didn't feel ready to deal with this.

"I'm going to bed." He replied gruffly, taking wine bottle by it's neck, but leaving the glass. "Wake me if you need me."

He could feel the female lumberjack's disappointed gaze boring down at him, trying to pierce him through his back. But he hadn't the strength to care.

But it wasn't the redhead who spoke up. It was the blonde. He saw her point to the bottle. "Hey, is that my dad's ' _Chute d'eaux Pesanteur'76_?'" She asked accusingly.

He held it up and looked at the label. Truth be told, he hadn't much cared what it was when the young girl had brought it to him. "I suppose it is." He said, examining it closely.

"That was... Oh my god..." The blonde stammered. "Do you have any idea... Just how much... Where did you even get that?!" Her hissing voice was rising, so the rest of them ushered her to remain quiet.

"Your friend got me a drink, as I requested." He answered plainly.

"Mabel..." Pacifica's voice grumble. "But why that one!?"

Van Hadeschant had to laugh. "She came up to me with this and apologized. She couldn't find anything proper. You only had wines that were already many years off. That it was about time for your family to clean up their basement and why you'd even bothered to store it here after your move, if they clearly had to have gone bad many years ago."

He left the shocked and boiling Pacifica behind as he took her candelabra from her and continued to laugh softly as he entered the hallway.

"Tell your father he didn't miss much." He said, bringing the bottle to his lips. "It's a bit too dry." He added before taking a swig and walking off to find a room of his own.


End file.
